


Weeping

by Sani86



Series: Amabika amahle - Good Omens in South Africa [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Apartheid, Childhood Friends, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, HIV/AIDS, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, South Africa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 67,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sani86/pseuds/Sani86
Summary: Anton and Ezra, childhood friends who lost touch, meet again in Johannesburg as young adults, and a lifelong friendship wants to blossom into something more. One white, one brown, both men: everything in their world says they can’t be together.A Good Omens Human AU, taking place in South Africa during the Apartheid years.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Series: Amabika amahle - Good Omens in South Africa [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022163
Comments: 649
Kudos: 124
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest, Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Meeting and meeting again

**Author's Note:**

> This note kept getting longer and longer; I think it’s a full introduction now!
> 
> This story is, as much as anything else, a love-letter to my country; I am South African born and bred. The whole culture of SA in the 20th century was one of “us vs. them”; believe me, heaven and hell have nothing on a hard-core South African racist.
> 
> So, needless to say, this story will include a lot of South African history and culture and local slang; I’ll include footnotes on anything that I think may not be immediately obvious to the non-South African reader. If I miss anything, please ask! Here is a Wikipedia list of common South African slang: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_South_African_slang_words>. It’s pretty accurate, but also hilarious for the drily academic way in which it discusses all sorts of swear words.
> 
> The title is from the iconic anti-apartheid song “Weeping”, which beautifully describes the relationship between the reigning government (the “man” in the song) and the non-white majority (the “demon”). Please go listen to it. I highly recommend this version by Vusi Mahlasela and Karen Zoid: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHgMKpZD4t4>. It contains snippets of Nkosi Sikilel’ iAfrika, another once-banned struggle song that is now our national anthem.
> 
> The story is dedicated to [Simon Nkoli](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_Nkoli), _in memoriam_.
> 
> I’ll be writing mostly from Az’s POV, since I am white and that’s the culture I grew up in (although, fortunately, my family was more on the liberal side of the scale).
> 
> This story kicks off in 1983 and continues on from there, with flashbacks to the past. I’ll label each section with the year it takes place in, so keep an eye on that or you might get lost. If you want to keep track of their ages, they were born in 1960 (like my parents, LOL).
> 
> **Content Warning** : Racism. So much racism. Come on, it’s South Africa in the 80’s. Also, language. Please also check CWs in the start notes of every chapter, some other nasty things might creep in.
> 
> Explicit scenes in 1 (one) chapter only and it is clearly marked and easy to skip, if that's not your thing. I'm not sure it actually crosses the line into explicit territory, but *shrugs*.

_February 1983_

Ezra slung his backpack over his shoulder as he disembarked from the bus, grateful that he was nearly home. It had been a long day, at the end of a long week, and he couldn’t wait to retire to his flat with a good book for the evening. He was in his final year of law studies at Wits[1], and it was shaping up to be a bit of a nightmare; he had already had his first test in Family Law today, and had a pile of reading to work through on the weekend; cases for his law courses, as well as a handful of short stories for the English courses he’d stubbornly insisted on taking.

He set off down Pretoria street, making quick work of the few blocks between the bus stop and his flat. The hot, humid February weather wasn’t helping his mood. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief, wishing for even the slightest breeze to cool him. Clouds were gathering on the horizon, as they had been every afternoon for the last week, but so far no rain had fallen to offer relief from the stifling heat.

Ezra glanced idly at the shop windows as he walked. Despite the hassle of the daily commute, he was enjoying living in Hillbrow[2]; much better than the university residence where he had stayed in his first year. After much begging on his part – and a few stories about the wild parties thrown at the residences (only _slightly_ exaggerated for dramatic effect), his father had agreed to rent him a flat in Hillbrow for the remainder of his time at Wits. Having his own space, free from the boorish oafs that populated the on-campus accommodation, had been a dream come true for Ezra.

Passing by Checkers, he remembered that he was almost out of milk, and decided to make a quick stop. Of course, he was fooling himself if he thought he’d be quick about it; he spent twenty minutes perusing the shelves, enjoying the air-conditioned comfort of the shop, and eventually emerged with not only a bottle of milk but also a loaf of bread, a bag of apples, a box of Post Toasties, a packet of Marie biscuits and the new Reader’s Digest magazine. All good company for the weekend ahead, which would probably involve more time than he would like (but less time than he should) spent poring over reams and reams of case law.

As he came out of the grocery store, he noticed that it was much darker outside than before. He glanced up at the sky; it was crowded with those dark storm clouds that promised a late-afternoon thunderstorm. _Finally,_ he thought to himself. On cue, lightning forked through the sky, followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. It would be pouring within a minute[3].

Ezra hurried off, determined make it to the apartment building before the storm broke. He had his eyes fixed on the pavement in front of him as he walked, not paying attention to his surroundings. No wonder, then, that he didn’t see the man rushing out of the door of the Hillbrow Record Centre and straight into him.

“Fok, sorry Baas[4],” came a voice that had that drawl Ezra associated with coloured folk[5].

“No problem,” replied Ezra distractedly, struggling to keep his hold on the shopping bags that were threatening to slip from his grip. Before he knew what was happening, a brown hand slipped past his and grabbed the handles of the bag securely, hanging onto them until he could adjust his own grip.

“Thank you,” Ezra said, turning to look at his assailant/rescuer for the first time. He was indeed a coloured man, skin the colour of milk chocolate, black hair straight and slicked back, and eyes hidden behind a pair of fashionable dark glasses. To Ezra’s bafflement, the man was staring at him with his mouth open.

“Ezra?” he asked, “Is that you?”

Ezra was about to express his confusion when the stranger pulled his glasses down to look him directly in the eye, and Ezra felt recognition hit him like a freight train. He had only ever known one person with eyes like that.

“Anton?” he asked, incredulous[6].

And because, apparently, someone up there had a sense of humour, the rain chose that moment to start bucketing down.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/49964117542/in/dateposted-public/) [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/49963332218/in/dateposted-public/)

\---

Anton and Ezra had known each other for... well, as long as either of them could remember. Anton had grown up in the care of his grandmother, Sophie, who had been working as housekeeper in the Fell farmhouse[7].

Ezra could never think of Sophie without a pang of nostalgia. The woman had been the closest thing to a true grandmother he had ever known; his mother’s mother had died before he was born, and his father’s mother was a grim lady who was the very embodiment of the attitude that children should be seen and not heard. But Sophie had had a heart as large and soft as the rest of her. She would tell them stories as she worked, stories of her time as a little girl in the midlands of Natal, old Zulu[8] legends and fables about the land and the animals she grew up with. She would sing them songs in her native tongue, lullabies and folk songs and lively dances that would start her clapping and swaying her hips as she worked. It was Sophie who gave him his meals, bandaged his scrapes and soothed his tears with her warm soft hugs. And yes, when they deserved it, she would turn the sharp side of her tongue on them, reprimanding and disciplining their unruly behaviour, strict but somehow still loving. Ezra often wondered who he would have been if it wasn’t for her steadfast presence in his life all through his formative years.

Anton, not-quite-two-years-old, had been unceremoniously dumped with Sophie after his mother died; his father having disappeared as soon as he learned of the boy’s conception[9]. Even as a baby, Anton’s look betrayed his mixed ancestry: his skin tended more to caramel than the dark ebony of his grandmother’s, and where her hair curled tightly against her head, his was straight and slick, with a slight glint of red in the sun. His most striking feature, however, were his eyes, their irises a warm golden shade instead of the ubiquitous dark brown. Ezra’s father had taken one look at the baby and declared him an abomination, but at his wife’s insistence he had agreed to let him stay with Sophie in her quarters.

Of course, the young Ezra hadn’t known any of this. He only knew that he had had a built-in friend growing up. Him and Anton spent countless hours playing in and around the house under Sophie’s watchful eye. When Anton got old enough, he was put to work on the farm under the watchful eye of old Jonas, the farm foreman, doing the kinds of chores a small boy could be trusted with. He was one of the help, after all; he had to earn his keep. Ezra had not been happy to lose his playmate, and had preferred to trail along with him rather than staying at home with his siblings. Gabriel and Michelle[10], the twins, were five years older than him, already in school, and they had a nasty habit of ganging up on their younger brother. Much better to spend his days around the farm, helping to tend to the animals and making up games to amuse them in the long stretches of the afternoon.

And so Ezra had happily spent the first few years of his life becoming best friends with Anton, not realising that they would have to grow up to live in separate worlds.

### Notes

Joburg = Johannesburg. It’s too bloody long to write out all the time.

1 Wits = the University of the Witwatersrand (It’s Afrikaans, the W is pronounced like a v – so you sat “vits”) It ~~was~~ still is one of the two major universities in Joburg (the other being the University of Johannesburg, then called the Rand Afrikaans University, or RAU.)[return to text]

2 Hillbrow in the 1980’s was a legendary place. It was very cosmopolitan, full of foreigners, café’s, interesting shops. It was _the_ place to hang out on the weekends. You could find stuff in Hillbrow you would find nowhere else in Joburg. Nowadays, it’s a crime-infested inner-city hellhole. Such a pity.[return to text]

3[3] I grew up on the Highveld (the area around Joburg), and late afternoon thunderstorms like this one are a typical feature of the summer months. It can easily go from 30 degrees in the shade to dark enough for the streetlights to turn on at 2pm in the space of half an hour. And back to sunny again just as quickly, after everything has been thoroughly drenched.[return to text]

4 “Baas” or “boss” was a common form of address used by non-whites for white males. It just shown how entrenched racism was in SA that almost no-one questioned this, it was just the done thing. Fok is the Afrikaans equivalent of fuck.[return to text]

5 Coloured: a person of mixed race, i.e. not white, black or Indian (for example, Trevor Noah was classified as coloured). In South Africa, starting in 1950, every person had their race recorded on their ID document. This little number could open or close a lot of doors for a person. Without a doubt, whites were the best off and blacks the worst, with coloured and Indian folk falling somewhere in-between. Coloured people run the skin tone gamut from barely-caramel to dark chocolate, so there were a whole host of rules for distinguishing coloured people from both blacks and whites (for example, the infamous pencil test: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pencil_test_(South_Africa)>. Honestly, our history sometimes reads like a satirical farce.) This ridiculousness went on until 1991.[return to text]

6 Anton is the Afrikaans equivalent of Anthony. It’s also a very common name among coloured folk. Seemed appropriate.[return to text]

7 A note on black housekeepers: it was (and still is, to some extent) common to have a black lady working as a maid (i.e. combination cleaner, cook and childminder). They usually lived on the property, but in separate quarters, *never* in the main house. By and large they were uneducated older women. In some households they were treated poorly, but more often than not they became like part of the family, especially to the children. Those of us who grew up with live-in maids like these usually have very fond memories of them.[return to text]

8 Zulu = one of the major indigenous tribes in SA, and their language. They originally hail from the Natal province.[return to text]

9 A note on Anton’s ancestry: he’s a coloured, or mixed race; his mother was black and his father white. His father abandoned his mother when he got pregnant because it was not only illegal to have a black lover, it would be a reputation-ruining scandal. His mother would have had no legal or other recourse to get the father to step up and take care of his son. Situations of absentee fathers and grandmothers raising their grandchildren are common in SA even today.[return to text]

10 Okay, yes, I changed Michael to Michelle. This is mid-20h-century white South Africa; I think you’d find it under the dictionary definition of conservative. No-one was gonna name a daughter Michael.[return to text]


	2. Memory lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anton and Ezra reconnect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one jumps from the present to the past back to the present - keep an eye on the year.
> 
> CW: mentioned death of a parent in the past. Racist remarks.

_1983_

They rushed back into the record store[11], along with a few other people seeking shelter from the storm. The record store was soon crowded with people who had been caught unawares by the storm, and it was getting uncomfortable. A few of the patrons were shooting disapproving glares at Anton, the only dark face in the store. Technically, he was not even allowed to be there, but most of the Hillbrow shopkeepers and residents took a rather relaxed approach to the segregation laws[12].

Ezra looked out the window; the rain had slowed a little, but it was still coming down steadily, occasional flashes of lightning lighting up the sky. The storm had all the hallmarks of settling in for an all-nighter. He turned to Anton.

Truth be told, Ezra was a little nervous at this unexpected reunion. Sure, they’d been best friends when they were little, but he hadn’t heard a word from Anton in years, hadn’t seen him in person for even longer. He had missed him terribly, though, and found that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye again so soon.

“This looks like it’s going to go on for a while,” he said, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. “Would you like to, I don’t know, come over to my flat? Have some tea and catch up?”

Anton looked surprised at the offer. “You’d be okay with that? Me coming over to your place?”

“Of course,” said Ezra baffled at Anton’s response. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, the stories I could tell you,” Anton muttered, looking away.

“Well, what do you say?” Ezra persisted. “For old times’ sake?”

“Okay,” Anton grinned at him. “Lead the way.”

They elbowed their way to the door, Ezra making polite apologetic noises as they went.

“Here, hold these for a moment.” Ezra passed his shopping bags to Anton and unslung his backpack, digging around for his emergency raincoat. It was a flimsy plastic thing, but it would have to do. He crammed as much of his groceries as he could into the backpack and shifted it back into position, leaving Anton holding the remaining shopping bag. Then, instead of putting the raincoat on, he pushed up close to Anton’s right side and draped the plastic over both their heads and shoulders like a sort of hood. This manoeuvre left him with his left arm draped over Anton’s shoulder; rather uncomfortably, since his friend had a couple of inches on him. “Ready to run?” he asked.

“Um. Where are we going?” asked Anton.

“Highpoint[13], just down the street.” Ezra pointed in the general direction.

“Huh. Fancy,” said Anton. “Wait.” He shifted the shopping bag to his right hand so that he could take hold of the corner of the raincoat that Ezra was still gripping uncomfortably. Ezra dropped his hand, but after a moment’s thought hooked it through Anton’s; they would need to stick together, after all.

“Okay,” Ezra said. “Ready... steady... Go!”

They set off, through the pouring rain, laughing and hanging on to each other.

And just for a moment, they felt they were two young boys again, running through the rain on a farm in the Free State, without a care in the world.

\---

_1966_

Ezra started school in January 1966. At his mother’s insistence, his father had agreed to let him attend his foundation years, Sub-A and Sub-B, at the local school in town rather than going off to boarding school so young. After that, when he went to standard 1, he would join Gabriel at St. Andrew’s in Bloemfontein. He had wondered out loud at the dinner table whether Anton would be joining him, prompting his father to scoff, “There’s use trying to educate the likes of him!” and his mother to explain rather more gently that his school only allowed white children[14]. Ezra was saddened by this; Anton was the only friend he’d really known. Nevertheless, he was excited to start school, with that eagerness for learning that is unique to small children.

He returned from the first day of school, swallowed down a hurried sandwich for lunch, and set off to go tell Anton about the experience. He found him sitting under an acacia tree in one of the fields, keeping an eye on the cattle.

“How was it?” Anton had asked, full of curiosity.

Ezra had excitedly told him about the school, the classrooms, how intimidating the older children were, how lovely his teacher was. He sang him the song they had learned that morning and retold the story they had read. Anton was quiet through most of this, listening to Ezra talk with a far-off look in his eyes.

“And the kids?” he asked eventually, when Ezra finally ran out of stories to tell. “What are they like?”

“They’re okay, I guess,” Ezra said. “None of them can climb a tree half as well as you can, though.”

Anton smiled at the praise, and Ezra sighed. “I wish you could also come to school. It’s awfully lonely without you there,” he said wistfully.

“Yeah, well. That’s not gonna happen,” said Anton dismissively. “Besides, what would I need to go to school for – I’ll spend my life out here, like old Jonas, tending the cattle and working on the farm. Don’t need book learning for that.”

\--

It was a few days later than Ezra came home fairly vibrating with excitement, announcing that they were already starting to learn their letters, and that one of these days he’d be able to read all those wonderful storybooks in the house.

“Huh,” said Anton. “Guess you’ll have to read them to me, then. Gogo Sophie says the boss won’t let me go to school, I have to work.”

Ezra was stunned at this news. Why was his father being so unreasonable? “You can’t go through life never learning how to read or write!” he exclaimed. “That’s crazy!”

“It’s not that I don’t want to learn, but how am I supposed to, if I don’t go to school?”

“I know! I’ll teach you!” Ezra was fairly vibrating with excitement. “I’ll come every afternoon, and show you the thinks we learned in school!”

“Oooh-kay, I guess....” Anton sounded sceptical.

Ezra picked up a stick and started scratching in the hard-packed dirt at their feet. “Look, this is what we learned today; it’s called ‘a’. Like in ‘apple’.” Ezra carefully traced the letter in the sand.

“A, for apple,” repeated Anton, tracing the shape with his finger. “And ants. And Africa.”

“Exactly!” said Ezra, beaming. He passed the stick to Anton. “Here, you try.”

Anton’s letter was a lot more wonky than Ezra’s, having less experience with holding a pencil, but after a few tries he managed to produce something that was at least recognisably an ‘a’.

“Good job!” said Ezra. “I told you, you’ll learn it in no time.” Anton smiled proudly.

\--

That night, as Ezra’s mother was tucking him into bed, he asked her again, “Ma, why isn’t Anton going to school? I know he can’t go to my school, but isn’t there a school he can go to?”

His mother sighed. “There is a bantu school in town, yes, but it’s not nearly as good as yours. I don’t know if it would do him much good.”

“But ma,” Ezra protested, “He’s really smart. I was showing him the letters we learned at school today, and he got it really quickly. He even thought up more words starting with ‘a’, just like that. Most of the kids in my class couldn’t even do that.”

His mother looked thoughtful at this, and Ezra decided to push his advantage. “Please ma, can’t you let him go to school? It’s only fair that he should at least learn to read and do sums. It might even be helpful around the farm.”

His mother smiled at him. “Real little lawyer, you are,” she said fondly. She tucked his blankets in around him and kissed him goodnight. “I’ll talk to your father. Maybe we can make a plan.”

After she left, Ezra lay in bed, smiling to himself. He knew his mother would keep her word about talking to his father, so maybe there was still hope for Anton to go to school. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was _‘I wonder what a lawyer is?’_

\--

That same night, Anton was curled up in bed in the room he shared with Sophie. “Gogo[15],” he asked her. “Can you read?”

“Nca, umfaan. I never learned; there were no books out in the bush when I was growing up.”

“Didn’t you ever want to learn?” he asked

“Not when I was a child, no. But today I wish I could, to know what’s in all those books people have. And to read the Bible for myself; my old memory isn’t what it used to be.”

A few beats of silence. “Ezra is learning to read. He says he’s gonna teach me.”

“Is that so?” asked Sophie. “You’re a lucky boy, then.”

Anton smiled to himself. He couldn’t help but agree.

\---

_1983_

They tumbled through the door into Ezra’s flat, giggling with the sheer exhilaration of running through the rain like children. Ezra toed off his shoes and dropped his backpack by the door.

“Just put the shopping bag over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchenette, before disappearing into the flat. He returned a few moments later with a towel, which he used to dry himself off before passing it to Anton.

Anton looked over at him, then shook his head with a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” asked Ezra, smiling himself.

“It’s just... I can’t believe it’s really you,” Anton answered. “These kinds of coincidences, they don’t happen in real life. It’s like something from the movies.”

“It does seem a bit surreal, doesn’t it?” Ezra was smiling. “How long has it been since we last saw each other? Seven, eight years?”

“Too long, anyway,” said Anton.

“Way too long,” agreed Ezra.

Ezra sat down on the couch and motioned for Anton to join him. He had to suppress a smile when Anton sat down – the man sprawled across the seat as if he were lying down under an acacia tree in the veld. Some things, at least, hadn’t changed.

“So, what have you been up to?” asked Anton. “What are you doing in Johannesburg anyway? I thought you’d be back on the family farm.”

“I’m studying at Wits,” Ezra explained. “Getting that law degree my mom was always on about.”

“Ah,” said Anton. “Why not go to Kovsies[16], though? Why go so far from home?”

“Well, the official reason is that Wits is the best English-medium university for my studies. I didn’t really want to study in Afrikaans. But honestly, I just wanted to get away from home for a bit.”

Anton nodded at this. “Your brother still such an ass?” he asked.

“Him and Michelle, yes. God, you have no idea.” Ezra rolled his eyes. “And my dad has only gotten worse since my mom passed,” he added.

“Wait, your mom’s dead? When did that happen?” Anton looked shocked at the news.

“Almost five years ago, now.” Ezra swallowed, feeling a familiar stab of pain at the memory of his mother. He still missed her every day, and he wondered if the ache would ever get less. “Doctors said it was a heart attack. No-one saw it coming.”

“Eish[17], Ezra. I’m so sorry.” Anton reached out a hand, as if to comfort him, but withdrew it again. Ezra gave him a weak smile.

“And Gogo Sophie? Is she still alive?” Anton asked.

“Oh, yes,” said Ezra, “And she’s as lively as ever. I bet she’ll outlive us all.”

Anton chuckled. “That old lady is tougher than a honey badger. Lord, I miss her.”

“She misses you too, you know. I think she’s just assumed you’re dead.”

Ezra looked at him intently, but Anton was avoiding his gaze, suddenly seeming intrigued by the floor.

”Anton?” asked Ezra cautiously. A hundred questions were vying for control of his tongue.

“Mmm?” Anton still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Ezra settled for the most burning question. “Why didn’t you keep in touch?”

Anton took a deep breath. “That,” he said, “is a long story.”

“I have lots of time,” Ezra said.

“Not that much,” said Anton, getting up. “Look, Ezra, I have to get going,” he said, making his way to the door.

“What?” said Ezra, incredulous. “You just got here!”

“Yeah, I know,” said Anton, “But if I don’t go now, I’ll miss the last bus out.”

“What do you mean?” said Ezra. “The buses run until late.”

Anton gave him a strange look, as if he couldn’t quite make out if Ezra was joking with him. Apparently, he decided he wasn’t, because he continued, “I don’t have a pass to be here after sundown. If the cops catch me, it’s tickets for me[18].”

Understanding dawned at last. Of course, being a law student, Ezra was well aware of the pass laws, but it was so easy to forget that those laws applied to Anton. In his mind, Anton was part of his family; certainly, he was more like a brother to Ezra than either of his awful siblings. To hear Anton speak this way was a cruel reminder of the different worlds they lived in; a lesson Ezra had learned and re-learned over and over growing up that still left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Of course,” said Ezra, suddenly awkward. “Can I walk you to the bus stop?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” said Anton, slipping his sunglasses back on. “Just walk me out of the building. In case I meet any angry residents on my way down.”

Ezra nodded sadly, and they made their way to the stairwell. They climbed down the stairs in silence, neither man sure what to say. Ezra wished he could keep Anton around for longer. It seemed so grossly unfair that he should have to say goodbye again so soon.

Before they stepped outside, Ezra grabbed Anton by the arm. “Will you visit again?” he asked.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” said Anton unhappily.

“Come on, Anton,” said Ezra, pleading now. “I haven’t seen you in years, and we still haven’t had a chance to catch up. Please,” he pressed. “I... I missed you,” he said in a small voice.

“Okay,” Anton relented. “I’m working tomorrow, but how does Sunday sound?”

“Perfect,” said Ezra, beaming. “Where shall we meet?”

“Uhm...” Anton was scratching his head. “Zoo lake, maybe? It’s about the only place around here we’re both allowed[19].”

“That sounds perfect,” Ezra exclaimed. “What time? I’ll be in church until about 10, but after that I’m free.”

“I could do 11.” Anton said.

“Excellent. I’ll bring a picnic, and we can have lunch.”

“Sounds good,” Anton smiled.

“Well, goodbye then. See you on Sunday.”

“See you,” Anton said. “And Ezra?”

“Yes?”

“I missed you too.”

### Notes

11 Hillbrow Record Centre was a local legend. They had pretty much anything you could imagine. If you’re interested, there’s a photo of it (and Fontana, another local legend) on this page: <https://www.sapeople.com/2015/06/20/the-journey-man-extracts-we-remember-hillbrow-south-africa/>. It closed down ages ago, unfortunately.[return to text]

12 Segregation laws decreed that certain amenities (usually the best ones) were only for whites. Non-whites had separate buses, toilets, park benches etc. and had to stand in separate lines in shops, if they were allowed in at all.[return to text]

13 Highpoint was pretty lah-di-dah. It was _the_ place to live for rich Wits students. It’s still there today, but rather on the other end of the desirability spectrum.[return to text]

14 The history of state-sponsored education under Apartheid is a whole *thing*. In short, white kids got excellent schooling, comparable to any European school. Black kids got only 4 years of state-sponsored schooling, carefully crafted to provide them basic literacy and prepare them for a life of unskilled labour under their white masters (although private and missionary schools did provide schooling beyond this). So while white kids were doing science and geography, black kids were taught gardening and housekeeping and the like. Coloureds and Indians had something in-between, having the opportunity to complete a full 12 years of schooling (although it was far more common for them to do 8 years and then vocational training). Opportunities for tertiary education were limited, and only available through specific colleges/universities dedicated to non-whites. For coloured kids, education was compulsory at least to primary school, but it wasn’t uncommon for farm workers’ kids to slip through the cracks.[return to text]

15 Some Zulu translations: Gogo = grandmother (it’s often used affectionately, like when you call your gran nana). Nca = no. Umfaan = colloquial pronunciation of umfana, which means boy/son.[return to text]

16 Kovsies = the University of the Orange Free State, in Bloemfontein[return to text]

17 Eish is a uniquely South African word. It’s a general exclamation of surprise/confusion/dismay – one of those versatile words that can fit all sorts of situations.[return to text]

18 Passes: this is another awful Apartheid thing. Basically, cities were divided into white and non-white residential areas, and non-whites were only allowed into white areas to work. To do this, they had to carry a pass with detail of their employment. Non-whites were not allowed in white areas after dark except if their employment required it. Violation of these rules could result in imprisonment. The pass laws were eventually repealed in 1986.[return to text]

19 Why Zoo Lake? In the Apartheid years, all the best amenities such as parks and beaches were reserved for whites only. By some miracle, the Johannesburg Zoo and Zoo Lake (a lake and park bordering the zoo) were exempt from these regulations, since the original deed under which the land was acquired did not allow segregation. So it really was one of the only spots in Joburg where whites and non-whites could mix freely. The reservation of separate amenities act was only finally repealed in 1990.[return to text]


	3. Big Brother is watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra starts to see the way of the world. Gabriel is an utter arsehole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Racist slurs. Gabriel.

_October 1967_

Ezra’s first two years at school were a joy. True to her word, his mother had convinced his father to enrol Anton in the Bantu school in town. As payment for what Mr. Fell considered a favour to the boy, he was charged with taking care of the house’s vegetable garden and flower beds. To everyone’s surprise, Anton took to gardening like a duck to water, and even the grumpy old baas of the house had to admit that the garden had never looked better.

Ezra liked to take his homework outside to keep Anton company while he worked. While Anton pulled weeds and pruned bushes, Ezra would practice his writing and reading. He got into the habit of speaking out loud as he worked on sums and vocabulary and the like, so that Anton could also keep up with his learning. On days when there wasn’t much to do in the garden, Anton would join him, and they would work on their letters together.

On one such an afternoon, a warm Saturday in the spring of 1967, they were sitting under the oak tree behind the vegetable garden. Anton’s work for the day was done, the gardens were looking pristine, and they were resting in the dappled shade. Ezra had even snuck a bottle of Sophie’s homemade ginger beer from the kitchen for them to share. He was reading a story out loud, and Anton was bent over a piece of paper, drawing pictures of the different flowers he had planted that week.

They were both so lost in thought that they didn’t notice Gabriel until he was towering over them. “Hey, boy[20],” he said, scoffing at Anton, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Anton’s pencil stopped moving, but he didn’t reply.

“He’s just sitting with me, Gabriel,” Ezra said, trying to placate his brother.

“My father doesn’t keep you around so that you can sit around on your scrawny ass, you know,” Gabriel said, ignoring Ezra, his face a picture of disdain. “If you’re not gonna be useful, you should get out of our sight. Don’t hang around here stinking up the place.”

Anton was staring at the ground now, and Ezra could see him gritting his teeth.

Seeing that he wasn’t getting a reaction, Gabriel reached down and grabbed the paper from Anton’s lap. “What’s this? Fancy yourself an artist, do you?”

“Give that back!” Anton jumped up and lunged for the paper, but Gabriel held it high up in the air out of Anton’s reach.

“Gabriel, don’t be horrid,” said Ezra, also getting to his feet.

Anton jumped up to retrieve his drawing, and in the process he knocked his foot against Gabriel’s leg, leaving a brown muddy streak on his pristine khaki trousers.

Gabriel shoved him so that he landed on the ground. “Look at what you’ve done, you stupid little kaffer[21],” he hissed. Towering over Anton, he ripped the drawing to shreds, threw it down and stamped it into the dirt. “You’re a servant in this house, don’t you dare forget it. If I ever catch you slacking off around here again, you’ll regret the day you were born. Got it?”

When Anton didn’t respond, Gabriel gave his cringing form a kick. “I said, got it?” he growled.

“Yes,” Anton whispered.

“Yes who?” Gabriel insisted.

“Yes, Kleinbaas[22].”

Satisfied, Gabriel turned on his heel and stomped off toward the house.

Ezra, frozen in shock throughout that whole encounter, suddenly seemed to regain the use of his limbs. He sank to the ground next to Anton, hands flapping helplessly. “Are you okay?” he asked, worried. “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” said Anton, getting up and brushing off his clothes. He kept his face turned away from Ezra, and the tension in his narrow frame belied his words.

Ezra grabbed him by a shoulder and turned him to face him. To his horror, Anton was crying. “Anton!” he said, distressed. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Should I call someone?”

“No!” said Anton, almost panicky. He wiped a hand across his eyes. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“You’re not!” Ezra protested. On an impulse, he pulled his friend into a hug. He had learned from Sophie that a warm hug could make anything better.

Anton pushed him away. “No, Ezra! You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” asked Ezra, hurt.

“You heard what your brother said. I’m just a _boy_ here, just the _kaffer_ who works in the garden.”

“You’re not!” Ezra protested. “You’re my best friend. And my brother is just a... a.... a big stupid-head!”

Anton heaved a heavy sigh. “Doesn’t matter. Your brother will make my life hell if I don’t do what he says, you know he will.”

Ezra couldn’t argue with that. Gabriel was stubborn, he thought the world revolved around him, and his age advantage meant that he was far bigger and stronger than the two younger boys. He wouldn’t lay a hand on Ezra, for fear of his mother’s wrath, but there was nothing stopping him from picking on Anton.

“Does that mean we can’t be friends anymore?” asked Ezra, his voice trembling.

“No!” Anton sounded horrified at the thought he looked up at the house nervously, and beckoned for Ezra to follow him until they were hidden out of sight behind the garden shed.

“Ezra, we’ll always be friends. I’ll always be your friend, as long as you want to be my friend. But... but it will have to be our secret. Your family can’t know.”

Ezra nodded. “Okay. Secret friends. For ever.” He held out a hand to Anton.

“For ever,” Anton echoed, shaking his hand.

### Notes 

20 “Boy” in this context is an insult. In South Africa, the word has a very specific connotation when said by a white person to/about a non-white. It was used as a derogatory term for non-white men of all ages (yes, even the elderly), and carried connotations of inferiority and stupidity.[return to text]

21 Kaffer = just about the worst racial slur you can imagine. Seriously, “nigger” is a term of endearment by comparison. Unfortunately, also very commonly used by white racist assholes. (Yes, I know there’s a tree called the kaffir lime. No relation)[return to text]

22 Kleinbaas = small boss. It was the form of address used for younger white males, like the Baas’s sons.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.  
> There will be another chapter tomorrow. It will be nicer than this one.


	4. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anton and Ezra have a picnic at Zoo Lake. We meet two of Anton's friends and learn a bit of what he's been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like this chapter, for some reason. Hope you all enjoy it.

_1983_

Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny. Ezra fidgeted all through the church service, for once unable to concentrate on the sermon. Afterwards, he didn’t linger for tea as he usually would; no, he had a far more important appointment to get to. He hurried back to his flat to get his backpack, in which he stuffed a Tupperware container of sandwiches, a box of biscuits and a bottle of Fanta. After a moment’s consideration, he also packed in a book. Just in case. He added a large beach towel to sit on (no sense in getting mud and grass on his trousers) and set off for the bus stop.

Zoo lake was rather busy, with plenty of locals taking the opportunity to enjoy the lovely weather. Ezra was only looking for one person, though. He craned his neck, shading his eyes as he looked around the park, but couldn’t spot Anton anywhere. He checked his watch: 10:52. Okay, he was a bit early. He made his way to an unoccupied bench and sat down, glad that he’d brought that book along.

He was a few pages in when Anton plopped down next to him. “Should’ve known I’d find you with your nose in a book,” he chuckled.

“Hello to you too,” chided Ezra with a smile, slipping a bookmark in and closing his book.

“Ja[23], hello,” chuckled Anton. “What are you reading?”

Ezra held up the book for him to see. It was an old and rather battered copy of The Hobbit.

“You still have that?” he asked, smiling. It had been Ezra’s favourite book as a child, and he had spent many an afternoon reading it to Anton, one summer holiday when they were probably ten years old.

“Yes. I re-read it every so often. It might be silly, but it brings back a lot of happy memories.”

“Not silly at all,” said Anton softly, a strange sort of smile on his face. He was wearing his sunglasses again. It was only sensible, Ezra supposed, given the harsh summer sunlight, but he did mourn the fact that he couldn’t see Anton’s eyes. It made it rather more difficult to read his expression.

“Are you hungry?” said Ezra. “I brought a picnic, as promised.”

“Sounds great,” said Anton. “But how about we go find a spot in the shade? I’m roasting over here.”

“Serves you right, dressing all in black,” teased Ezra, but he was already getting up from the bench.

“I’m all in black even when I’m not wearing anything,” he teased back. “Whereas you’re so pale, I’m surprised you’re not getting sunburn already.”

“I think I am, actually,” said Ezra wrinkling his nose. They set off in the direction of a small stand of trees.

They eventually found a spot under a spreading Jacaranda, far enough from everyone else that they could have their picnic in peace. Ezra spread his towel out before sitting down, but Anton just sprawled on the grass. There had been plenty of rain during the summer, and the grass was thick and soft.

Ezra wiggled a bit, getting comfortable, and unpacked the rest of the food from his bag. He helped himself to a sandwich and passed the container over to Anton.

“Hmm, these are good,” Anton said in-between bites.

Ezra just nodded and passed him the Fanta bottle. “I forgot to bring glasses, sorry. Hope you don’t mind drinking from the bottle.”

“Nah. It’s not like we didn’t spend half our childhood doing the same thing.”

“True,” Ezra replied with a chuckle. “Remember Sophie’s ginger beer?”

“God, yes, that stuff was the best!” Anton replied enthusiastically.

“I’ll bring some when I go home again,” Ezra said. All this talk of their childhood was bringing up all his unanswered questions again. “Anton,” he began, then hesitated, not sure how to go on.

Anton must have seen the question in his eyes when he looked up. He shrank back a little. “Can we talk about this later, please?” he asked, pleading. “Let’s not spoil a nice picnic.”

Ezra found this statement was a little disconcerting, to say the least, but he acquiesced. “Okay then,” he said, casting around for a less fraught topic of conversation. “So. What do you so nowadays?”

“Still gardening,” said Anton. “Did piecework for a few years, but I’ve got a job at Emmarentia[24] now. Mostly I look after the rose gardens.”

“Oh, really?” said Ezra, delighted at this news. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard they’re quite lovely. I can believe it, now, knowing they’re your handiwork.”

Anton ducked his head bashfully. “Not just mine. But yeah, I’ve put in a lot of hours there. It’s a good spot.”

“Well, now I’ll just have to come look, won’t I?” Ezra said, before turning back to his sandwich.

“And you?” Anton asked. “What have you been up to?”

“Well, like I said, I’m studying law at Wits. In my final year now.”

“Wait, how does that work? Anton interrupted. “Did you fail a year or something?”

“Come again?” said Ezra, confused.

“We started school in ‘66, right? So you would have matriculated in ‘77[25]. That’s six years ago, and correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t a law degree only four years?”

“Oh, that,” Ezra nodded. “I did my army time right after school[26]. Thought it was best to just get it over with.”

“Of course,” said Anton, understanding dawning. “I forget. We don’t have that. Can’t risk teaching the darkies how to use weapons, hey?” he said bitterly.

“Yes, well, seems they’re figuring it out for themselves anyway,” remarked Ezra. “All this business with the ANC[27].”

“Hmm,” said Anton noncommittally. Ezra couldn’t be certain, but he seemed to be uncomfortable with the topic.

“Say, Ezra,” said Anton, looking over at Ezra. “This may be silly, but... Do you think you could read to me? Like when we were kids?”

“Of course,” said Ezra, delighted with this suggestion. He fished the book out of his bag as Anton made himself comfortable on his back. “Here,” said Ezra, passing him the now-empty backpack to use as a pillow.

“Thanks,” said Anton, settling back and closing his eyes.

“I’ll start from the beginning, shall I?” Ezra cleared his throat and began to read. _“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”_ He glanced up, and was delighted to notice a small smile playing at the corners of Anton’s mouth. He allowed himself a quick smile, and continued reading.

They were almost through the first chapter when Ezra was interrupted by a man’s voice exclaiming, “Mfezi! What the hell are you doing here?!”

Ezra looked up to see two men standing next to them, but Anton jumped up as if he’d been hit with a thousand volts of electricity. “Uh, hi guys,” he said, collecting himself. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Ezra regarded the newcomers with trepidation. The one who had spoken was tall, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and wide-brimmed hat despite the stifling weather. His skin was even paler than Ezra’s, not a hint of a tan or a freckle, and his eyes were a startling shade of icy blue. Despite this, his features and the tight curls of his yellow-white hair were those of a black man[28]. His companion, a slightly shorter but stockier man, was almost the exact inverse, having the darkest skin Ezra had ever seen. He was looking at Ezra with open distrust.

“Who’s yer friend?” asked the dark-skinned man.

“This is Ezra,” Anton explained, and then, pointing at the other two, added, “Ezra, this is Harry and Lunga[29].” They shook hands, eyeing Ezra suspiciously. Ezra couldn’t help but notice that Anton was looking a bit nervous.

“Ezra, huh,” said Harry, the pale man. “Funny, he’s never mentioned you.”

“Oh, we just met up again a few days ago,” Ezra said, flustered by the intensity of the man’s gaze. “We knew each other as children, but we lost touch. We happened to run into each other in Hillbrow.”

“Wait a minute,” said Lunga. “You knew him as a kid? On that farm where he lived? Were you one of them, hey?” The man’s hands had curled into fists, and something in the set of his body suggested that he was seething with barely suppressed rage. Ezra looked at Anton, frightened of this strange man and the violence that seemed to simmer just below the surface of his skin.

“Chill, Lu,” said Anton, laying a hand on the man’s arm. “Ezra was my friend, even back then. You know. I told you about him.”

Anton and Lunga exchanged a look filled with unspoken words, and then the black man’s demeanour changed like the turning of a page, and his companion’s face broke into a smile. “Aaaah,” Harry said with a knowing grin. “You’re _him._ ”

Ezra couldn’t keep up with the rapidly changing mood of this conversation. “What do you mean, _him_?” he asked, looking between Anton and the other two.

“I may have told them some stories from our childhood. Mentioned we were friends.” Anton shot Harry and Lunga a warning look. “Look, why don’t you two do me a favour and piss of now?”

“Sure, sure,” said Harry, still grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“See you later, Mfez’?” added Lunga.

“Yeah. Sure,” said Anton, waving them off. They watched as the two men left.

“Pardon my French, but what the hell?” said Ezra as soon as they were alone.

Anton ran an exasperated hand over his eyes. “Friends of mine. Long story.”

“You seem to have a lot of long stories,” Ezra remarked.

“I guess I do,” said Anton.

“Let’s start with an easy one,” Ezra suggested. “ They called you by a strange name – “

Surprisingly, Anton chuckled at that. “Oh, ja. Mfezi. You don’t know the word?” Ezra shook his head. “It’s a snake. Mozambiquan spitting cobra[30]. There was an... incident when I met Lunga for the first time. Long story short, he gave me a fright, I thought he was attacking me, and I spat in his face. Didn’t help that I’d just taken a mouthful of beer. Poor guy got showered. Broke my nose for my trouble, before Harry managed to separate us.”

Ezra laughed at this mental image. “I wondered why your nose looked all crooked,” he teased.

“Oh, come off it,” Anton retorted, hiding behind his hands.

“I’m just teasing, my dear,” Ezra placated him. “Your nose is as lovely as always.”

“Wha-?” Anton gave him a somewhat confused glance over his hands. Ezra realised rather belatedly that he may have sounded inappropriately affectionate. He’d gotten into the habit of using casual endearments with Ana, his best friend at university; seemingly, his brain had filed Anton in the same category as her, and decided that _my dear_ was an appropriate way to address him.

“Sorry,” Ezra said. “Ignore me. Tell me about your friends. Where do you know them from?”

“I actually met Harry’s mom first, not long after I first got to Joburg. She caught me trying to steal veggies from her garden.”

“You _what?”_ Ezra spluttered.

“Hey, I was hungry,” Anton said defensively. “I’d just gotten here, I was living on the streets, didn’t have any money. I was desperate, okay?”

Ezra felt a bit bad for his outburst, hearing that. He had no idea what Anton’s life had been like since he left the farm, but he suddenly understood that it might not have been very pleasant. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please go on. She caught you in her garden?”

“Ja. Had her hand around my arm before I’d even heard her. I was expecting a snotklap[31], at the very least, maybe even a trip to the police station. Instead, she looks me up and down, and goes ‘if you’re hungry, you can just ask, you know.’ She reminded me so much of Gogo Sophie. That way she has of scolding you, but her eyes are still laughing, know what I mean?”

Ezra nodded. He did know. The two of them had received more than enough such loving reprimands while they were under Sophie’s care.

“Next thing I know, she’s making me tea, and I’m spilling my guts to her. She freaked out when she heard I didn’t have a home, insisted I sleep on her couch that night. I have no idea what possessed her to take in a perfect stranger, but that antie[32] saved my life.”

“And I suppose you met Harry through her?” Ezra asked.

“Ja. He lost his shit when he found out his mom had some moegoe[33] sleeping on her couch. I’m sure he would have thrown me out on my arse if she gave him half a chance. Luckily, we hit it off almost immediately. Ended up moving into his spare room. He’s a good oke[34].”

“Sounds like it,” Ezra said.

“Yeah,“ Anton replied. “They’re like brothers to me, him and Lu. Probably would have been dead or in prison by now, if not for them.”

“I’m glad you found such good friends here.” Ezra was, he truly was... but still. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, a little stab of sadness at the knowledge that _he_ used to be that special friend.

Anton must have heard something of it in his voice, because he glanced up at Ezra, shifting his sunglasses so that he could look him in the eye. “They didn’t replace you, you know.”

“I’m sorry?” Ezra said.

“I mean. They’ll never be my best friend the way you were. They’re the next best thing, and I love them, but you were always my first best friend. Even all the years we didn’t speak.”

“Really?” said Ezra. It had been the same for him, heaven knew, but he thought Anton had long forgotten him – or that he was dead, and Ezra could never decide which of these was more painful to believe.

“Really.” Anton settled back into a reclining position. “I would have come back eventually, you know. Somehow, I would have. When it was safe.”

This new piece of information threw Ezra for a loop. “Safe? What do you mean? Are you in danger?”

“Not just now, I don’t think,” Anton said. “But believe me when I say it would be a spectacularly bad idea for me to come back to the farm, or even call or write. I couldn’t risk it. Didn’t dare.”

Ezra was getting more confused the more explanations Anton offered. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you all of it, I promise. Just... ”

“Right. Not now. You said.”

“I’m sorry, Ez.” Ezra felt his annoyance being overtaken by sympathy. His friend was clearly upset about something, the agitation evident in every line of his face. He reached out to pat his arm.

“It’s okay, my dear. We have time. We’ll make time.”

Anton shot him a grateful smile. For a moment, it was like hey were children again, best friends who could read each other’s thoughts with a single look. Both their eyes carried the promise that they would not lose each other again; that, this time, they would stick together.

“Now, how about I read you some more of this?”

“I’d love that,” Anton said, making himself comfortable on is makeshift pillow.

And so Ezra continued his story until the sun started sinking and it was time to make their way home. This time, however, they were sure not to part without exchanging telephone numbers and a firm plan for when to meet again.

### Notes

23 Ja = yes (Afrikaans). Pronounced 'yah'. Remember this one, it pops up over and over.[return to text]

24 Emmarentia lake is at the Johannesburg Botanical Gardens. The rose garden has been there since forever; I remember visiting it as a little kid. Check it out here: <https://medium.com/@TravelBeeps/the-jaw-dropping-botanical-gardens-in-johannesburg-bbeb499b74c2>[return to text]

25 Kids those days started school at 5 (the year they turned 6), and finished in the year they turned 17. For my American/British friends, the school year here runs January to December – like, you know, the calendar.[return to text]

26 Military conscription: all white males aged 17-60 were required to serve two years in the military.[return to text]

27 “This business with the ANC” that Ezra alludes to refers to the ANC’s armed struggle and sabotage campaign, run through their military arm Umkhonto we Sizwe, or MK. Nelson Mandela was one of the founders of MK. More on that here, if you’re interested: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UMkhonto_we_Sizwe>[return to text]

28The Harry is, indeed, a child of black parents, but he has albinism, a genetic condition in which the skin does not produce the brown/black pigment melanin. It is not entirely uncommon in South Africa (affecting about 1 in 4000 people). Persons with albinism burn very easily due to the lack of melanin, hence the long sleeves and hat at all times.[return to text]

29 Fun fact, Lunga is a Zulu name meaning “be good.”[return to text]

30 Here’s a lovely picture of a Mozambiquan spitting cobra: <https://www.flickr.com/photos/69265387@N06/9774584264>. They are very, very deadly.[return to text]

31 Snotklap = a hearty slap (AFAIK, derived from the idea of being slapped so hart that snot goes flying).[return to text]

32 Antie = Afrikanerism for aunt; used to informally address any older female.[return to text]

33 Moegoe = loser, layabout, useless person.[return to text]

34 Oke = dude/guy.[return to text]


	5. Growing up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of flashbacks through Ezra's childhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long. And mostly just soft and cute. Mostly.
> 
> CW: mentioned bullying (offscreen), homophobic opinions expressed, homophobic slur mentioned (although you probably wouldn't recognise it as such if you're not South African).

_1968_

Ezra moved to the boarding school at St. Andrews[35] early in January 1968; it would be his home-away-from-home for the next 10 years. Gabriel also went there – in fact, his brother had been head boy of the primary school the previous year – and Michelle was in standard 4 at St. Michael’s nearby.

Initially, Ezra went home almost every weekend. He had proven himself to be rather hopeless at rugby and cricket, so he didn’t have to participate in school sports on Saturdays, and besides, he much preferred to spend time on the farm. His older siblings, on the other hand, both participated in all sorts of extracurriculars, so they seldom came home outside of the holidays. This made it even more appealing to escape back to the farm on weekends.

Ezra and Anton kept up their clandestine friendship, spending as much time together as they could. Ezra could still be found in the garden whenever Anton was at work – not visiting with him, exactly, but just being in the same space, exchanging the occasional snippet of conversation. And when Anton’s work was done, they would run off and find somewhere to play until sunset called them home for dinner. Fortunately, the farm was large, and it offered many places where two young boys could hide from prying eyes.

One of their favourite spots was down by the spruit, way on the other side of the mielie lands[36]. The small river usually dried to a trickle by the end of the winter, but it was still the wettest place on the farm, allowing a small wood of poplars and willow trees to flourish there. It was far enough from the house that Ezra’s parents and siblings never bothered to come looking for them. As often as they could, Ezra would pack a bag full of snacks and they would set off for what quickly became _their_ spot. They spent hours upon hours in the shade of those trees, reading, playing, swimming in the stream and just being kids. Years and even decades later, Ezra and Anton both would recall those as being some of the happiest times of their lives.

_November 1970_

Ezra was standing on a low stool, fidgeting as his mother pinned the hem of his white robe. The school’s Christmas pageant would be the next week, and they were making the final adjustments to his costume. He was in the choir, one of a mass of generic angels, and he didn’t see what it mattered if his robe was a bit long – or even not hemmed at all, really. No-one would be able to tell.

The next moment, the peace was shattered by an almighty screech, the sound of an animal in terror. Ezra followed his parents outside, only to find that one of the sheep had somehow escaped from the kraal and gotten its foot caught in the cattle grid at the entrance to the yard. The animal’s panicked bleating had set the dogs off, and the cacophony was deafening.

“Bella! Wagter! Sharrap[37]!” his father yelled at the dogs, cowing them into silence. They were farm dogs, and well trained.

“Blerrie stupid animal,” Mr Fell muttered under his breath as he freed the sheep’s foot from the grid. “You, boy. Take this thing back to the kraal,” he yelled, gesturing to someone behind Ezra – Anton, as it happened. He and Sophie had also come to see what the disturbance was all about.

“Yes, Baas,” the boy responded, grabbing hold of the sheep by the scruff of its neck. “C’mon, girl,” he murmured gently to the frightened animal, urging her along.

“Ezra, come inside before you get your costume dirty!” his mother yelled from the house.

“Coming, ma,” he shouted, giving Anton a quick wave before going back inside.

The next day, lying under the tree in their usual spot, Anton asked Ezra “So, what was with the white dress last night?”

“Dress?” Ezra was momentarily confused, but then he remembered he had run outside while still wearing his angel costume. “Oh, you mean the robe.” He explained about the Christmas pageant and how the entire school choir had to dress up as angels.

“An angel, huh?” Anton said. “Okay. Kinda suits you.”

“Huh?” said Ezra

“You know, you’re all blonde and pretty, and always friendly. Like an angel.”

Ezra laughed. “Does that mean we’re living in heaven, then? And Gabriel’s an actual archangel?”

“Archdemon, more like,” Anton muttered. Ezra hummed in agreement. He couldn’t really argue with that. Gabriel’s tendency to torment Anton had only gotten worse over the years, to the point where the younger boy was now avoiding the _Kleinbaas_ at all costs.

“’sides,” Anton continued his musings, “It’s only fun when you’re here. Rest of the time, it’s just school and hard work. Doesn’t sound much like heaven to me.”

“Well, just two more weeks, then it’s school holidays.” Ezra reminded him. “Home for over a month! I can’t wait!”

“Ja,” Anton agreed. “Me neither.”

_February 1973_

Standard six had not been pleasant so far. As the youngest boys in the high school, the standard sixes were treated like personal servants by the matrics[38]. To make it worse, word had gotten around that Ezra was Gabriel’s baby brother, and Gabe’s friends and enemies alike seemed to take a special pleasure in torturing him. At least Gabriel had matriculated the previous year, so he wasn’t around to make things worse; Ezra wasn’t naïve enough to think that his older brother would have protected him.

In an effort to hide from the matrics as much as possible, Ezra spent almost every moment of his free time in the school library. The librarian had taken him under her wing after witnessing a particularly nasty episode with two of the older boys, and allowed him to hide away in her office when he was in the library. Ostensibly he was working there as a media monitor, but in reality he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, whether for schoolwork or pleasure. All in all, he supposed, it could have been worse.

Nevertheless, it was an immense relief when he could return to the farm for a weekend for the first time, six weeks into the first term. The high school calendar was jam-packed with all sorts of compulsory weekend activities, and he was lucky if he could go home once a month. Arriving home that Friday, he headed straight for their hangout at the spruit, only stopping to drop his bags in the room. Anton had seen them arrive, and was already waiting for him.

“So, how’s high school?” asked Anton. “Any different from primary?”

“Ugh, yes. It’s awful,” responded Ezra.

“How so? Is the work difficult?” Anton’s schooling had stopped at standard 5, and he was now working on the farm full time.

“Not so much. The schoolwork is just... like it’s always been, you know. But the older boys are simply horrid.”

“Oh?” said Anton, brow furrowing in concern.

“They take the fact that they’re senior over us very seriously. Treat us like slaves, half the time. Do you know, I had to polish a whole dorm’s shoes last week? With a toothbrush!”

“Oh dear,” said Anton, unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile.

“It’s not funny!” protested Ezra.

“It is a bit,” countered Anton. Ezra threw a handful of grass at him.

“If that’s what you’re going to be like, I might as well head home,” he pouted.

“Sorry, sorry,” said Anton, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Tell me all about it. I promise I won’t laugh again.”

For the next half hour or so, he regaled Anton with stories from school. It started out fairly light-hearted, with anecdotes of the ridiculous tasks the matrics set for them, but then Ezra mentioned that he actually spent most of his time in the library.

“Wait, why would you do that?” Anton asked. ”I mean, I know you like books, but it’s not like you to stay indoors all the time.”

“It’s just... safer that way, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Anton’s mouth was set in an unhappy line. “What do you have to hide from?”

Ezra heaved a sigh. “The matrics again. They’re just... well, the best way I can explain it is that they’re rather like Gabriel. And thanks to Gabriel, I’m the favourite target for their bullying. So... it’s easier just to hide where they can’t get to me.”

“Wow. That sounds kak[39].”

“Yeah, it’s not ideal. But I don’t really want to talk about it, if you don’t mind?” Anton gave a nod.

“I’m just so glad to be home for a weekend.” Ezra continued. “How have things been over here?”

“Oh, you know. Same old same old.”

“Are you still doing the gardens?” asked Ezra.

“Ja, I’ve taken them over completely now; Jonas finally decided I can be trusted with the lawnmower.” Anton gave a smile at this; he had had a long-running argument with the old man about whether he could handle the heavy machinery.

“You must like that,” said Ezra.

“Yeah, it’s not bad. Would be better if your idiot brother would go away.”

“I think that could be considered an absolute law of the universe, probably. I’m sure I saw it in my science textbook: everything is better if Gabriel goes away.”

Anton burst into a fit of giggles at this. “Definitely,” he agreed.

“At least he’s due to leave for the army soon; that will help, right?”

“I can’t bloody wait,” Anton agreed. “Then it’s just your sister left, but she’s at school most of the time, and when she’d here she doesn’t even deign to look at me, so I guess that’s okay.” Anton sighed. “I wish it was you at home, rather than them.”

“Me too,” Ezra agreed. “School is awful, I’d much rather be here. Better people. Better food. Best friend.”

“Really?” Anton said, sounding surprised. “I’m your best friend?”

“Of course, you mamparra[40]. What did you think?”

“Dunno,” Anton said, scratching his head. “I suppose I thought you had friends at your school.”

“Nah,” said Ezra. “Not proper ones. They’re just sort of... there when it suits them, you know? I don’t think they’ll stick around.”

Anton turned to Ezra, his face suddenly serious. “You know I’m not like that, right?” he said.

“Of course,” Ezra answered. “Friends forever, that’s what we are.”

“Forever, yes,” Anton said with a smile, lying back down on the grass.

\---

That night, Ezra was sitting in the lounge with his mother, telling her about the last few weeks of school over a shared cup of tea. He tried to skirt around the issue of the matrics bullying him – goodness knows, the last thing he needed was for his mother to confront Gabriel about it. There was no way that would end well for him.

Still, there was one thing that had been bothering him.

“Ma,” he asked. “What does moffie[41] mean?”

His mother’s expression seemed to freeze. “Why do you ask? Where did you hear that word?”

“Oh, just around, you know, at school.” No need to tell her the word had been directed at him. He was smart enough to know that it had clearly been meant as an insult.

His mother sighed. “Ezra. Do you know what a homosexual is?”

“No,” he said.

“Well, it’s like this.” His mother was fidgeting with her hands, a nervous gesture that Ezra had inherited from her. She looked as nervous as the time she had explained where babies came from to him, Ezra thought (an activity he still couldn’t fathom participating in).

“You know how most men fall in love with a woman, and they marry and have children?”

Ezra nodded; that was obvious enough.

“Well, with some men, something goes wrong, and they don’t want women, they only want men. That’s called being homosexual, or gay. A moffie is a gay man.”

“And... that’s wrong?” Ezra asked. “Why?”

His mother sighed again, and got up out of her chair. She walked over to the bookshelf and retrieved the old family Bible. She flipped through it until she found a particular verse.

“Look,” she said, pointing out a verse in the book of Leviticus. “It says so right here.”

_Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination_ [42]. Ezra read. Well, that seemed clear enough, at least as far as sex went. But... how did that work, anyway? They didn’t have the right, erm, openings? Probably best not to ask his mother that, though.

“And it’s in the New Testament too, you know,” his mother continued, oblivious to his musings. She pointed out another verse, this time in the book of 1 Corinthians.

 _Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God_.

“That term there, ‘effeminate,’ – that’s probably the best word to describe what people mean when they talk about a moffie,” his mother explained. “It’s a man who acts like a woman, including going after other men rather than women. And ‘abusers of themselves with mankind,’ that’s the same as the text in Leviticus.”

“Oh,” Ezra said weakly. “That seems... clear enough, I guess.”

“It’s also against the law in this country, for men to be involved in that way.”

This was news to Ezra. But then, he supposed, the laws were there to make sure people did what was right, and the Bible was the best place to tell you right from wrong. If they outlawed murder and theft and all that, he supposed it was only right that they outlaw this too. 

“So, calling someone a moffie – that would be a bad thing, then?” Ezra asked, for something to say.

“It’s one of the worst things you could say to someone, Ezra,” his mother replied sternly. “Don’t let me ever hear you using that word to describe anyone.”

“Oh, ma! You know I wouldn’t!” Ezra protested.

“I know, my love.” She kissed him on the top of his head. “Now, off to bed with you.”

Ezra kissed her goodnight and made his way to his room, mind working furiously to process everything he’d just learned. He did not fall asleep until many hours later.

_January 1975_

“So, back to school on Monday?”

Ezra and Anton were sitting under one of the large willow trees by the spruit, dangling their feet in the water. It was hot, one of those oven-baked, windless summer days that you only ever seemed to get in the Free State. The shade of the tree offered a welcome sanctuary from the burning sun, the cold water of the spruit a soothing contrast to the baking air.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Ezra sighed. The summer holidays had been glorious, filled with long lazy days of not much to do, but like all good things it was coming to an end.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a busy year,” he continued “But at least all of Gabriel’s cronies have moved on now.”

“That’s good,” Anton agreed.

“On the other hand, Gabriel himself will be home from the army soon.”

“Ag fok, I forgot about that,” Anton lamented. “Any idea when he’ll be back?”

“Sounds like sometime in February, depending when his platoon gets back from the border[43].”

“Ugh, so I have, what, maybe a month of peace left?”

“Something like that. And unfortunately he’s coming back too late to start university, so he’ll be hanging around here for the rest of the year.”

“Oh God,” Anton moaned. “Just kill me now.”

Ezra swatted him on the arm. “Don’t say stuff like that. Just now that rinkhals[44] we saw the other day hears you.”

“Snakes don’t have ears, Ez,” Anton teased. He considered for a moment. “Do they? Jonas told me they listen with their tongues.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Ezra mused. “I’ll have to look it up. I’m sure it will be in the encyclopaedia.”

Anton chuckled. “You and your books.”

“Oh, come off it. One of us has to be the clever one,” Ezra said.

“Oh, yeah?” Anton teased back “What does that make me then? The pretty one? Or the muscle?”

Privately, Ezra thought both of those descriptions were apt for Anton, but he daren’t say so. “Nah, you’re the dim but loyal sidekick,” he teased back instead.

They passed a couple of hours like this, bantering and talking all sorts of nonsense, just the way they always had. Neither wanted the afternoon to end; the next day would be Sunday, and it would be back to school after church. This would be their last afternoon together for many weeks. Ezra was dreading the time away from the farm. True, he had made some friends at school now, but they couldn’t compare to what he had with Anton. They’d grown up together, knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves. At least Ezra could comfort himself with the knowledge that Anton would still be there when he got back, however many week later that would be; that they would simply pick up their friendship where they left off, like they did every time Ezra got home from school. It was the one thing he knew he could always count on.

### Notes

35 St. Andrew’s School is an English boarding school for boys in Bloemfontein (St. Michael’s is its sister school for girls). At the time of this story, the school was still run by the Anglican church. Disclaimer: I didn’t go there, I have no idea what it’s like, so everything that happens there is entirely imaginary![return to text]

36 Spruit = a small river. Mielie lands = cornfields. Mielie (alternative spelling mealie) is absolutely the only word a South African would use for corn/maize.[return to text]

37 Sharrap = shut up.[return to text]

38 Matric = standard 10 (now called grade 12), the last year of high school. High school ran from standard six to matric.[return to text]

39 Kak = shit.[return to text]

40 Mamparra = stupid person. Usually an insult, but used affectionately here, like calling someone “you silly thing.”[return to text]

41 Moffie = Afrikaans; derogatory term for a gay man, especially one who is effeminate; similar to ‘faggot’ or ‘fairy’ in English. To anyone who thinks it’s unrealistic for a 13-year old not to know what it means, let me assure you: growing up in a conservative household in South Africa at that time, it was entirely plausible. No need to ask me how I know this.[return to text]

42 The scriptures his mother quotes are Leviticus 18 verse 22 (Old Testament) and 1 Corinthians 6 verse 9-10 (New Testament), in the King James Version.[return to text]

43 “The border” refers to the South African Border War, aka the Namibian War of Independence or the Angolan Bush War, a nightmare of a thing that dragged on from 1966-1990. There’s a Wikipedia article on it here: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_African_Border_War>. Many of the men who were in the army in those years fought in and were traumatised by the war.[return to text]

44 Rinkhals = a venomous snake indigenous to the Free State. Very much deadly.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you feel that Gabriel needs to be punched in the face? (Don’t we all, really?) Tezca has kindly provided us with such a thing: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594097>. Please go read and enjoy a laugh!
> 
> And to everyone who’s reading along and leaving comments: you guys are the absolute best, I love you all!


	6. He never even said goodbye...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Monday after their picnic, Ezra remembers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is sort of sad...  
> I also think it's the last flashback, if I'm not mistaken.

_1983, the Monday after the picnic, noon_

Ezra threw his bag down on the cafeteria table with perhaps a bit more force than was strictly necessary, before flopping down into the uncomfortable plastic chair.

“What’s got you all worked up?” asked Ana, quirking an eyebrow at him over her salad.

“Blue Monday,” he replied curtly.

“Yeah?” she asked. “You never have blue Mondays. You’re always disgustingly cheerful on Mondays, because you have your damn literature class in the morning.”

Ezra sighed. He couldn’t hide anything from her. Ana was his best friend at the university – his best friend in general, he would have said, until Anton had stumbled back into his life two days earlier. They’d been hanging out almost constantly since they first met in a sociology class in their first year, and she knew him pretty well by now.

“Yeah, it’s that literature class that was the problem,” Ezra confessed. “Got into a spot of trouble with the lecturer because I didn’t do the weekend reading.”

“You what?” Ana said in an exaggeratedly scandalised tone. “Ezra Fell, what has gotten into you?”

Ezra rolled his eyes at her, wanting to be annoyed, but knowing that her shock was probably justified. He’d never in his life failed to complete an assignment for class, even the optional ones. This was quite out of character for him.

“Well, if you must know, I had a rather interesting weekend.” Just the mention of it was already bringing a smile to his lips.

“Okay buddy, your eyes are sparkling like a Christmas tree. What’s going on? You get a girlfriend or something?”

“What? No!” Ezra was surprised at Ana’s suggestion. “I did meet up with an old friend, though.”

“Oh, really? Anyone I’d know?” Ana sounded curious.

“I doubt it. Did I ever mention Anton, the friend I grew up with back home?” Ezra had always been very reluctant to talk about Anton; somehow, those memories always carried a sting. He was honestly not sure if he had ever mentioned him to Ana.

“Was that the boy who worked on your farm? The one your brother used to terrorise?”

Ah, yes, now he remembered; he had mentioned Anton to her. It had been one day shortly after they’d met. Two of the senior students had been yelling at a black gardener over some perceived misdeed, and Ezra had seen red; had unleashed all the anger he had stored up against Gabriel during their childhood on them. Only verbally, of course; Ezra was not stupid enough to get himself into a fistfight with two older men. Still, he probably would have been beaten up for his trouble if Ana hadn’t been with him. Turns out she was quite a loose cannon herself, if she felt that someone had been wronged and needed defending. Afterwards, in a bid to explain his outburst, he’d told her about the years of conflict between his brother and his boyhood friend.

“That’s the one,” Ezra answered. “I ran into him in Hillbrow on Friday.”

“Oh. Okay. What was he doing there? Doesn’t he stay on the farm?”

Ah, yes. He hadn’t told her that part of the story.

\---

_1975_

Standard 8 was turning out to be a rough year for Ezra, both socially and academically. The schoolwork was getting tougher, especially the maths and science, which he had no particular love for. Ezra was a hard worker, and prided himself on getting good marks in school, but his perfectionistic tendencies meant that he worked himself into a frantic state trying to measure up to his own expectations. He’d gotten pulled into a number of extracurriculars too, because he couldn’t say no, and they consumed most of his free afternoons and weekends.

At least things had at least gotten easier on the bullying front, mostly because the boys that used to torture him had graduated by now. He even had a few friends, of sorts. In all honesty, they didn’t have that much in common – the other boys were interested in sports and rock music and girls, while he much preferred to spend time out in nature, or with a good book. But nevertheless, it felt good to have a group of people to hang out with, so he made an effort to fit in.

So school wasn’t all bad, but it was exhausting. Ezra was relieved when the Easter holidays finally arrived, and he could go home for a three-week break. He hadn’t planned much for the holiday – although he did, as always, have a stack of books he wanted to read. Mostly, if he was honest with himself, he just wanted to spend his days relaxing with Anton down by the spruit. He missed that peaceful sense of belonging that he hadn’t felt since the summer holidays.

As the farmhouse came into view, Ezra could feel himself unwind. He got out of the car, grabbed his bags, and made his way eagerly to the door. Jonas was at work in the garden, raking up the leaves that the old oak tree was shedding all over the lawn; he raised a respectful hand in greeting.

That’s odd, Ezra thought – the gardens were Anton’s territory, he should have been the one raking the leaves. Maybe he’d traded out with Jonas, made him some sort of deal to get himself the afternoon off so that he could spend it catching up with Ezra. Cheered by this thought, he rushed into the house to dump his bags and change out of his school uniform. Within minutes he was on his way to their meeting spot, backpack stuffed with snacks and a book.

To his mild surprise, there was no sign of Anton down by the spruit, but that was okay. Ezra knew he was probably busy with some job on the farm somewhere, and he would come as soon as he could. That had been their arrangement for as long as Ezra had been in boarding school.

Ezra pulled out his book – he was busy with Lord of the Rings – and an apple, which he munched on distractedly as he read. He was soon lost in the world of Middle Earth, deaf to the world around him, half-eaten apple forgotten by his side.

“Ezraaaa!” Gabriel’s voice ringing out across the fields pulled him back to the present. He panicked for a moment, feeling like he was being found out doing something naughty, before he relaxed – right, Anton wasn’t here yet. Good thing, too; he didn’t want his first day back home to be spoiled by a confrontation between his brother and his friend.

“Over here,” Ezra shouted back, getting up off the ground and walking in the direction of Gabriel’s voice. It wasn’t long before his brother came into view. It was the first time they’d seen each other since Gabriel’s return from the army some two months ago, and Ezra thought he could see something of the military in Gabriel’s stance. He waved and hurried to meet his older brother.

“Ezra!” Gabriel greeted him, slapping his shoulder in a way that was probably meant to be friendly, but that made Ezra wince. “Good to see you, little brother!” Gabriel was smiling in that strange way he had, that didn’t quite reach his eyes no matter how many of his teeth were showing.

“Yes, you too,” Ezra answered politely.

“What are you doing all the way out here in the veld?” Gabriel asked.

“Oh, you know,” Ezra answered with a shrug. “Just reading. Missed the wide-open spaces.”

Gabriel shook his head. “You always were a strange one. Anyway, ma said to come unpack your things, Sophie wants your laundry. And Michelle also wants to say hello.”

Ezra knew he couldn’t refuse, so he made his way to the house, disappointed that he still hadn’t had a chance to say hello to Anton.

Once he’d unpacked and made a few minutes of polite small talk with his sister, Ezra made his way to the kitchen, where Sophie was busy cooking dinner.

“Sanibonani[45], Gogo,” he greeted her in Zulu, like he’d learned from Anton.

“Ezra, my boy!” she smiled, turning around and greeting him with a warm smile. “Welcome home! It’s so good to see you. You’re getting so big!”

Ezra laughed. It was true – he now stood a good head taller than his beloved old housekeeper. “It’s good to see you too, Gogo,” he said affectionately. “Are you well?”

“It doesn’t do to complain, my boy,” she answered. Which, Ezra couldn’t help noting, wasn’t the same as a yes, but he didn’t remark on it. “And you? Are you doing well at school? I’m sure they’re not feeding you enough, you’re far too skinny! Here, let me get you some tea and beskuit[46].”

Ezra chuckled again. Sophie had been on a lifelong mission to fatten up him and his siblings, believing that a round tummy was a sign of good health and prosperity. She hadn’t had much notable success with anyone but Ezra, who could never resist a second helping of her delicious food.

“Not right now, Gogo,” he asked. “I want to go say hello to Anton first. Do you maybe know where he is?”

Sophie’s face clouded over at Ezra’s question. “They didn’t tell you, omncane[47]?” Hearing Sophie use her childhood nickname for him was a bit worrying; she hadn’t used it in years, since Ezra had been young enough to require comforting after getting hurt or fighting with his siblings.

“Tell me what?” he asked.

“Anton’s not here,” she answered.

“Oh?” Ezra responded. “When will he be back?”

“No, my boy, I don’t think he’ll be back.” Sophie’s voice was sad.

Ezra felt something cold and dreadful curl around his heart, like a python winding its coils around its prey. “What do you mean? Where did he go?”

“Sit down, omncane,” Sophie said, gesturing to a chair by the kitchen table. ”I’ll make tea.” The python gave a squeeze. Sophie was fiddling nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the news she had to impart.

Ezra grabbed her flapping hands and held them gently in his own. “Gogo, forget the tea,” he said “Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

Sophie took a deep breath. “Anton left. He’s gone. I don’t know where.”

“What?” Ezra’s voice was small; the python was squeezing the breath out of it. “When?”

“It was about a month ago.” A month! And no-one had even mentioned it, as if it wasn’t of any consequence.

To them, it probably wasn’t.

“Why?” Ezra managed. He was down to single syllables now.

Sophie sagged into the chair opposite him, suddenly looking weary even beyond her years. “I don’t know,” she said sadly. “One night he was still there when I went to bed, the next morning he was gone. Didn’t say a word to anyone, didn’t leave a note, nothing. It’s like he was swallowed up by the earth.”

There were tears in the old woman’s eyes now, but Ezra didn’t see them; his own eyes were clenched shut against the rising tide of emotion.

Ezra heard voices in the back yard, rapidly approaching – his father and Gabriel, engaged in some spirited discussion. He pushed his chair back without a word, heedless of the way it fell over and clattered to the floor, and rushed out of the kitchen, wanting only to avoid his older brother.

He slammed the bedroom door shut behind him and sank onto his bed, trying to make sense od Sophie’s news. Anton, gone? Just... not there anymore? It made no sense, as if his brain couldn’t conceive of a world with an Anton-shaped hole in it.

Ezra took a few deep breaths. He had to calm down. It wouldn’t do to break down and cry – honestly, who even did that, cried like a baby over their best friend? Besides, showing up at dinner with red eyes would raise too many questions he didn’t want to answer. No, he had to keep it together.

\--

“Father,” he asked at dinner that evening. “What happened to Anton?”

“The garden boy?” his father’s tone was casual. “Who knows. He just upped and left one day.”

“And no-one knows why? Or where he went?”

“No,” his father affirmed. “Thought about filing a missing person report with the police, but didn’t seem worth the bother.” He shrugged and turned back to his food.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish, if you ask me,” Gabriel opined. Ezra shot him a dirty look.

“What do you care, anyway?” Michelle asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

“I don’t, really,” Ezra said defensively, hoping the enormity of that lie wasn’t written on his face. “I was just curious.”

He desperately cast around for something to say, to change the topic away from that touchy subject, finally settling on asking Gabriel about the army. To his relief, it worked, and Gabriel spent the rest of the meal talking about his experiences in the military.

\--

That night in bed, Ezra was forced to admit the reality to himself: Anton was gone, possibly for ever, and no-one knew where he was. He tried not to think of it as a betrayal, but he couldn’t quite stop the sharp stab of pain. _You promised_ , he berated Anton in his mind as the first tear made its way down his cheek. _Friends forever, that’s what you said. How could you? How could you leave me here alone?_

He curled up in bed, hugging his pillow tightly. The last thought he remembered before sleep took him was _is this what heartbreak feels like?..._

_\---_

_1983, the Monday after the picnic, evening_

“Okay, so let me see if I have this straight,” Ana said, after Ezra gave her a heavily abridged version of the Anton story. “This Anton guy, he was a worker on your parents’ farm? But also your best friend? And then he disappeared into the blue when you were, what, fifteen? And you never heard a peep from him in all these years?”

“Essentially, yes,” Ezra answered.

“And then, on Friday, he randomly runs into you in the street, in Hillbrow of all places? That has to be the weirdest coincidence ever.” Ana sounded flabbergasted.

“It was, rather.” Ezra couldn’t help but smile at the unlikeliness of it all. “Anyway, that’s why I didn’t get to all my reading; we spent the whole of Sunday hanging out at Zoo Lake.”

“Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Seeing a childhood friend again?”

“It was, really. But it also brought back a lot of memories. Not all of them happy.” Ezra rubbed his hand over his eyes. “It’s all a bit overwhelming, if I’m honest. My best friend disappeared out of my life without a trace, and now he’s suddenly back, and I don’t really know what to make of that.”

Ana gave him a calculating look. She had a way of looking at him that made it feel as if she could read his innermost secrets in his eyes. He instinctively looked down, avoiding her gaze.

“Okay,” she said at last. “Here’s what will happen. I have a class to get to, but I’ll see you tonight. I’ll come to your place. You make sure there’s food, I’ll bring wine, and you can tell me the whole story. Maybe talking through it all will help you get your head sorted out.”

“Maybe,” said Ezra sceptically. He wasn’t particularly sure that he wanted to rehash the whole painful history, but he also knew Ana was stubborn, and she’d show up on his doorstep tonight no matter what he said.

“Okay, I’ll see you sometime after six then, depending on how the buses run.” She gave him a hug and they said their goodbyes before setting off to their respective lectures.

### Notes 

45 Sanibonani = Zulu greeting. Technically, it’s used when addressing more than one person (sawubona being the usual way to greet a single person), but the plural address is also used to elders as a sign of respect.[return to text]

46 Beskuit = rusks. A traditional South African treat, usually dipped in tea or coffee because it’s quite hard. The closest thing I’ve encountered to beskuit elsewhere is probably biscotti.[return to text]

47 Omncane = Zulu for “little one”. The ‘c’ is not a sound but a type of click, pronounced like the sound you make when trying to suck out a piece of food stuck between your front teeth.[return to text]


	7. The rest of the story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra tells Anathema the whole story, and an important truth is finally acknowledged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Internalised homophobia. It's quickly buried in tons of love, though.

As promised, Ana showed up at his door at twelve minutes past six, two bottles of wine in hand. “I brought white and red,” she explained. “Didn’t know what you’d fancy.”

“White, I think,” Ezra said. “I thought we could go get some fish and chips from the caffie[48].”

“Sounds good,” said Ana, placing the wine in the fridge. “Lead on.”

They walked downstairs and down the street to the nearest corner shop takeaway place. That was one of the best things about living in Hillbrow, in Ezra’s opinion – he rarely had to travel more than a few blocks to get anything he needed. They got their food, and a slab of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk chocolate, and made their way back to the flat.

Ana had the good grace to allow Ezra to finish his supper and a glass of wine before she resumed her interrogation from lunchtime. “So,” she said, topping up both their glasses. “Tell me about Anton.”

“What do you want to know?” Ezra hedged.

“Everything,” Ana answered. “Just tell me the story. Especially – and this is important, Ez – the bits you don’t really want to tell.”

“Wha-? Why?” Ezra protested.

Ana shrugged. “You mentioned you were feeling torn up about the whole situation. The bits you’ve already told me don’t seem that dramatic. So, I’m assuming there’s something more to the story.”

“I suppose...” Ezra conceded, grudgingly. He still wasn’t sure if he really wanted to go over the whole painful story again, and he especially wasn’t sure how much of his own thoughts was comfortable sharing.

Ana must have sensed his trepidation, because she placed a hand on his arm and fixed him with an earnest look. “You can trust me, Ez. You know that, right? I won’t go spreading your stories around. And if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s also fine. But you seem upset, and I really do think it will be good for you to just talk about things.”

Ana was right, he knew she was, but the habit of hiding had been deeply ingrained since the first day Gabriel had turned on Anton. “Okay,” he said. “I’m not sure it’s as dramatic as you think, but okay.”

Over the next hour or so, he told Ana the story of their childhood; how they had grown up together as small boys, how their different positions in life tried to force them apart, how they stubbornly maintained their friendship despite it all. He enjoyed recounting their antics, dredging up happy memories he hadn’t thought about in years.

“Wow, sounds like you two were close,” Ana remarked after he told her about the last summer holidays before Anton had disappeared.

“We were,” Ezra said with a smile. “I’ve never had a friend like him, not before, and not since. No offence,” he said, realising that such a statement could be insulting to his substitute-and-now-second-best friend.

“None taken, I assure you,” Ana laughed it off, before turning serious again. “It must have been hard when he left.”

“It was awful,” Ezra agreed. “It was as bad as if he’d died. Or worse, actually, because he’d just left, by choice, without any goodbyes or explanations. I felt so... betrayed, I guess. I mean, my best friend – who had promised me we’d stick together forever, mind – and he was gone, just like that. It hurt, it hurt a lot, and it took a long time for it to stop hurting. And now, now he just pops back into my life. I was beyond thrilled to see him, you know – I prayed for this so many times, begged for God to send him back, and wham, here he is!”

“Okay, but help me out here,” Ana explained. “If you’re so happy to see him, then why do you look so stressed out over it all?”

“Oh, it’s probably silly of me,” Ezra said, “but I keep wondering, what if he disappears again? I still don’t know why he left last time. Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

Ana gave him a long, thoughtful look, one of those penetrating, digging-around-in-your-brain stares of hers. “I’m gonna ask you a question, Ez,” she said, “and I need an honest answer, okay?”

“Of course,” Ezra said. Why would she think he would lie to her?

“Did you love him?” she asked.

“Of course I did. He was my best friend. Same as I love you.” Ezra hoped that that would satisfy her, that she wouldn’t dig into it any deeper, _please_. But of course she did.

“That’s not what I meant, and I think you know it.” Ana said.

Ezra didn’t respond, so she repeated herself. “You can trust me, sweetie. I’m your friend, I probably know you better than anyone at this stage in your life, and I hope you know that I won’t judge you for anything you tell me.” Ezra gave a weak nod. “So tell me the truth: did you love him?”

“I... guess so, yes,” Ezra whispered, feeling the words stick in his throat, too big and not nearly big enough. He had thought about it often, especially in the early days after Anton left, when the heartache was still fresh. The deep, dark secret that he had scarcely admitted to himself, much less anyone else. A familiar sense of shame welled up in him – he was not allowed to feel like this! It was sinful, _wrong!_ He brought his hands up to cover his face, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Oh, honey,” Ana said, gently. “C’mere.” She reached out and pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay, Ez. It’s gonna be okay.” She held him while he quietly sobbed into her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on his back and mumbling occasional words of comfort.

Ezra eventually calmed down enough to pull back. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. “Sorry about that,” he said weakly.

“Nothing to apologise for,” Ana said. “Not for crying all over me, and not – are you listening to me? – not for being who you are or loving who you do. I mean it.”

“Really?” Ezra couldn’t hide his surprise. “You don’t mind? If I’m-” he still couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

“Gay?” Ana completed his sentence. “Why would I? To be honest, I had my suspicions. I’ve watched _so_ many girls flirt with you over the last three years, and you never once responded. No straight guy is that oblivious. And you never once flirted with me, which is a sure sign,” she added with a playful wink.

Ezra laughed, more out of nervous tension than the inherent humour of the situation. “You’re a treasure, An,” he said. He tried to refill his wine glass, only to discover that the bottle was empty. Probably a sign that they should stop, that. They had class tomorrow, after all.

\--

“So, what are you going to do about Anton?” Ana asked, not being one to shy away from difficult questions. She had announced she was sleeping over, claiming she was far too tipsy to go home, and was currently dressed in one of Ezra’s t-shirts and a spare pair of his pyjama bottoms, drawstring pulled tight around her narrow waist. Ezra was making them some Milo[49] to drink.

“I don’t know yet,” Ezra answered. He was feeling much calmer now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, and it had not been hunted down with torches and pitchforks. “I mean, I’m so glad to have seen him again, to know that he’s alive and well, but it’s scratched open a lot of old hurts. I’m scared to trust him again, you know? What if he disappears on me again?”

“That’s a fair point,” Ana agreed. “And do you know if you’re going to see him again?”

“Yes, actually. We’re meeting up at the zoo on Sunday.” Despite everything, Ezra felt a thrill of anticipation.

“Okay. Next question: do you want to be friends with him again? Considering everything you just told me.”

“Oh, my dear, I don’t think we ever stopped being friends,” Ezra answered. “It’s the strangest thing, but when we’re talking – it’s like all the years in-between didn’t happen; things are as easy as they’ve always been. At least, until those years come up somehow. Then it gets all awkward.”

“You wanna know what I think?” Ana asked, and Ezra nodded. “I think you need to find out why he left. Make him tell you the story. Maybe he had a good reason, or maybe it was a rotten one, but either way, you need to find out. Otherwise you’ll never know if you can trust him again.”

Ana was right, Ezra knew she was. He decided that he would confront Anton about it on Sunday. And after that, well... once he knew the truth, he would make his decision.

### Notes 

48 “Caffie” is a very South African way of pronouncing “café”, and usually refers to a corner shop, that sells basic groceries, sweets, magazines and usually also some takeaways (fish and chips, toasted sandwiches and the like). They usually sell the best _slap chips_ (French fries), oily enough to give you atherosclerosis just from looking at it.[return to text]

49 Does the rest of the world have Milo? It’s a malted chocolate drink, for those that are not fortunate enough to know it – something between hot chocolate and Horlicks.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See y'all again in, hmm, 12 hours or so :)
> 
> Quick question: how do you guys feel about some sexy chapters later on? Yes, no, indifferent? I'll probably write them regardless, but if some readers aren't up for that I'll shove them in a side story.
> 
> ETA - the pro-sexy faction won out - see chapter 21 😝


	8. The true story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anton finally tells Ezra what happened all those years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: I don't want to put it here because it would be a bit of a spoiler, so if you think you may be triggered by something, check the end note, I'll stick it there so as not to give away the surprise.

Ezra spent the early part of Sunday afternoon wandering around the Johannesburg Zoo with Anton, eating ice creams and trading stories and facts about the animals. They had lunch under the trees on one of the sprawling lawns surrounding the bandstand, listening to the small brass band that was playing. It would have been a perfect afternoon, if not for the nagging questions still hanging over them. Ezra knew that if he wanted answers, he would have to be the one to bring it up.

“Anton,” he said hesitantly, as they were standing by the monkey cage, watching the silly creatures playing around. “You still owe me some long stories.”

“I know,” Anton said with a small sigh. “This just doesn’t quite seem like the place for such conversations, you know?”

“Well, if you like, maybe you could, I don’t know, come over to mine again?” Ezra felt unaccountably nervous inviting Anton over, considering he was talking to his oldest friend.

“Yeah, okay,” agreed Anton. “I guess I do owe you some explanations.”

“Meet you there?” Ezra said, mentally cursing the fact that they couldn’t just get onto a bus together[50].

“Sure,” said Anton.

“I’ll wait for you outside the building,” said Ezra.

\---

Ezra waited outside Highpoint for 15 minutes before Anton arrived, thanks to the different running times of the buses.

“I was starting to think I’d been stood up,” Ezra teased as they made their way up the stairs.

“I would never!” retorted Anton in mock horror.

 _Oh, really?_ Ezra was tempted to retort, but he bit his tongue. They would talk, Anton had promised.

Out of habit, Ezra flicked on the kettle as he walked into the flat. “Tea?” he asked.

“Rooibos[51], please, if you have.”

Ezra fixed them each a mug of tea, while Anton made his way to the couch. When Ezra eventually joined him, he found Anton paging through an old photo album of his. The album had belonged to Ezra’s mother; she had kept one for each of her children. Ezra took his album with him after she died. It was out on the coffee table because, after Anton’s abrupt return to his life last week, he had gotten nostalgic for his childhood and spent an evening looking through the old photos and reminiscing. Now, Anton was looking at one of the photos, a faint smile on his face.

“What are you looking at?” Ezra asked, curious.

Anton tilted the album to show him. It was open to a photo of a ten-year-old Ezra and his mother, Ezra wearing his angel costume from the Christmas pageant.

Ezra chuckled. “Can you believe we were ever that small?”

“Seems like a lifetime ago,” Anton said.

“It does, doesn’t it? Almost can’t believe it’s the same me,” Ezra agreed.

Anton held the album up, gaze flitting between the photo and Ezra’s face, a mock look of extreme concentration on his face. “No, it’s definitely you,” he concluded. “Still look just like an angel.”

Ezra chuckled. “If you say so.”

He took the album from Anton. “There’s another one you should see,” he said, paging back to earlier photos, until he found one where he must have been all of three years old. The photo featured him and Anton, butt naked and covered in mud from head to toe, only their eyes and a tuft of Ezra’s hair peeking out. Anton laughed when he saw the photo.

“Ma told me we found our way into the garden after a rainstorm and decided the flowerbed was an ideal spot to play.”

“Well, at least we took our clothes off first; Gogo would have wrung our necks.” They both chuckled as they remembered Sophie’s many complaints about grass stains and mud splatters on their clothes over the years.

“Are there any more of me?” Anton asked.

“No, that’s the only one, unfortunately.” Ezra had already looked quite closely.

Ezra closed the album and set it down, suddenly serious again. “Anton,” he said, all traces of laughter gone from his voice, “Tell me why you left.”

Anton sighed. “It’s not a nice story, Ez. Are you sure you want to know?” He sounded as if he was trying to avoid the question; as if he’d really rather not tell Ezra about it.

Ezra felt his patience give way. “Of course I want to know,” he snapped, frustrated. “Why the hell do you think I keep asking you about it? You owe me that much, Anton. Otherwise you might as well just fuck off again.” By the end of the last sentence he was almost shouting.

Anton was cowering in his seat, eyes wide, cringing at Ezra’s outburst. For a moment, Ezra saw a seven-year-old boy, trembling on the grass before a much older and stronger one, and he was appalled at himself.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he said, all the anger gone from his voice. “I shouldn’t have yelled.” He sank back on the couch. “Just... please? I need to understand.”

Anton took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “You’re right. I owe you that much.” He raked his hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in all directions. “Shit, haven’t talked about this in years.” He took a big gulp of tea, as if fortifying himself.

“The first thing you have to understand is that I never wanted to leave. Never planned on it. Fok, it was the most difficult thing I ever did.”

“Then why did you?” Ezra couldn’t help asking.

“Because, as awful as leaving was for me, staying would have been worse.”

Well, that could have been clearer, Ezra thought, but didn’t say anything; he just looked at his friend expectantly.

“It started when Gabriel came back from the army,” Anton went on.

Of course, Ezra thought. Of-fucking-course it did.

“I don’t know what happened while he was there, but he hated me even more when he got back, if you can believe that’s possible. And as a bonus, the army had taught him a whole lot of lovely new ways to make someone’s life a living hell.”

“Did he hurt you?” Ezra asked, somewhat alarmed.

“Nah,” Anton replied dismissively. “Well, no more that he’d always done.” Which, as Ezra knew, wasn’t an insignificant amount. “But there was a lot of yelling and insults, much worse than before. Honestly, I think the only reason he didn’t beat me up more was that I was always working around the house, where your mom or Sophie could see us. I hate to think what could have happened if he’d gotten me alone out in the veld somewhere.”

They shared a moment of grim silence at this unappealing mental image, and Ezra gave a small shudder.

“But that wasn’t really the problem. I mean, Gabriel’s a doos[52], nothing new there. But for some reason, your sister took a shine to me.”

“You’re kidding,” Ezra said, disbelieving. Michelle had never so much as spoken to Anton that he knew of.

“I swear. At first I thought she was just trying to be friendly, you know – maybe she felt bad about Gabriel giving me so much kak or something?”

Ezra privately thought that this was unlikely. Empathy had never been his sister’s strong suit. “But how was that a problem?” he asked. “Did it bother Gabriel that she was being friendly with you?”

“Oh, no,” Anton Answered. “She was careful never to talk to me when he was around. But whenever he and your dad were off somewhere on the farm or in town, she was there... I didn’t think much of it, at first. Was nice to have some company. But then she started getting really flirty.”

“She what?!” Ezra interjected. He couldn’t imagine his sister flirting with anyone, much less the garden boy.

“Ja, seems she was up for a bit of dark chocolate on the side.”

Ezra’s mind was reeling with this new information.

“And you?” he asked weakly. “Did you... was it... mutual?”

“Fok, no,” Anton spluttered. “No, never. Not my cup of tea at all.”

Ezra felt unaccountably relieved at this.

“I tried to make that clear, several times. But she’s a stubborn one.”

Ezra nodded. Michelle had always been the only one who could give Gabriel a run for his money in sheer pig-headedness, and while Gabriel relied on brute force, she was much cleverer when it came to finding devious ways to achieve her ends. He felt rather sorry for Anton, being the target of his sister’s ambitions.

“Anyway,” Anton continued, “The pawpaw really hit the fan one afternoon when... well, I’ll spare you the details. Long story short, she cornered me in the shed while I was putting away the tools and sort of... threw herself at me.” Anton was squirming uncomfortably at the memory.

“So you didn’t...”

“Are you crazy? I ran like a springbok that’s just spotted a lion! Hoped that would be enough for her to finally get the message.”

“And did she?”

“You could say so. She was _pissed_. She cornered me again, later the same day, but that time was certainly not with amorous intent.” Anton gave a small shudder at the memory. ”She basically told me to get the hell off the farm. Threatened me... said if I was still there in the morning, or if she ever heard from me again, she’d tell Gabriel I tried to... force her.”

“WHAT?!” Ezra jumped up in indignation. “How dare she! That’s... that’s horrible!”

“Yeah.” Anton rubbed a hand over his eyes. “She didn’t leave me much of a choice. You know as well as I do who your family would believe. And if they didn’t kill me first, who the courts would believe[53].” Anton shrugged. “So you see, I didn’t really have any other option but to leave.”

“I guess you didn’t,” Ezra conceded. “But... you could have let me know somehow. Left me a note, or... something!” Ezra realised he had raised his voice, and took a breath to try and calm himself down.

“I was scared, Ez,” Anton said, looking shattered. “Terrified. I wasn’t thinking. I just ran, and when I couldn’t run anymore, I hitchhiked to Joburg. It was blind panic. Then, that afternoon, I saw some boys in school uniforms, and it reminded me of you. I realised you wouldn’t know, you’d think I just walked out on you, broken all the promises we made. I knew I couldn’t dare to write, or call, or visit – if your sister caught wind of it, it would be the end for me. Fok, it nearly killed me.”

Ezra noticed that Anton’s cheeks were wet with tears, a look of absolute heartbreak on his face. He thought he recognised the emotion he saw there, recalled the taste of it from all those years ago. On an impulse, he scooted over and wrapped his arms around his friend.

Anton jumped a little, startled, and Ezra realised that, apart from that one aborted attempt when they were seven years old, they’d never hugged each other.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, squeezing a little tighter. Anton untensed and slid his arms around Ezra’s back, returning the hug.

“Thank you for telling me,” Ezra said softly. “It helps, knowing what happened.”

“I wish it could have been different,” Anton sniffled against his shoulder.

“So do I, my dear.” Ezra said placatingly, “But it’s in the past now. I’m just glad we found each other again.”

“Me too, angel,” Anton mumbled. “Me too.”

\---

The next morning, Ezra woke to find a hastily scribbled note on the kitchen counter.

_‘Had to go to work, didn’t wanna wake you. Threw the key in the bathroom window. Thanks for letting me crash on the couch.”_

He smiled to himself. Seems Anton was quite adamant that he wouldn’t leave without a trace again.

He whistled a happy little tune as he made his tea and got ready for the day.

Notes

50 Because of aforementioned segregation of public amenities.[return to text]

51The Rooibos is a type of “tea” that is very popular in South Africa. Not sure if the rest of the world even knows it.[return to text]

52 Doos = crude insult comparing someone to female genitals. Similar to calling someone a twat/cunt. Gabriel definitely is one.[return to text]

5 At this time in South Africa, a best-case outcome for a rape conviction would be a thorough beating and a prison sentence, probably with hard labour; worst case would be the death penalty.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for those who skipped here: Mentioned past accusation of rape (that didn't happen, but still...)
> 
> ***
> 
> So there you have it! Did anyone see that coming? You all thought it was Gabriel, hey...
> 
> +50 points for anyone who can spot the literary classic I (rather unintentionally) copied here...


	9. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Ana's boyfriend!  
> And Ezra and Anton go to the movies with Harry & Lu. Interesting conversations and revelations ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: internalised homophobia. Also mentions of people being persecuted for homosexuality, including enforced conversion therapy (all off-screen and in the past, and only mentioned in passing).

“You’re all smiley,” Ana remarked when she met him outside his last morning class on Monday. “I take it your weekend was a success?”

“You could say that,” Ezra answered.

“Got your answers, then?” she grinned at him, and he nodded. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume they were good ones?”

“Well, depends on how you define good,” Ezra said. “It wasn’t a happy story, but it did explain a lot of things. I think it’s safe to say our friendship is back on track.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Ana beamed at him. “I can’t wait to hear the details. But it will have to wait a bit; we’re having someone else join us for lunch.”

“Oh?” Ezra raised his eyebrows in surprise. This was new; for as long as he could remember, it had just been the two of them having lunch every Monday.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. You know that guy I’ve been seeing?”

“Newton?” Ezra asked, and Ana nodded. She had started talking about the young maths lecturer late last year, and to Ezra’s surprise, they still seemed to be together after the holidays.

“Well, it’s getting kinda serious between us, so I thought it was time you two should meet,” Ana explained.

“I’d be happy to meet your beau,” Ezra smiled.

“Beau? Really?” Ana giggled as they rounded the corner.

“There he is,” she said, pointing out a tall-gangly man with dark brown hair standing outside the cafeteria.

Ezra looked at the man, and a sudden suspicion hit him.

“What did you say Newton’s surname was?” he asked.

“I didn’t.” Ana replied. “It’s Pulsifer. Why?”

“Watch this,” said Ezra with a sly grin. He creeped up on the man from behind, putting a finger to his lips to show Ana that she should keep quiet. She watched him with an amused expression.

When they were about a metre away from Newton, Ezra straightened up and bellowed in a deep voice very unlike his usual soft tones: “Troep Pulsifer! Op aandag![54]”

Some sort of muscle memory must have taken over, because Newton startled to attention, nearly dropping his bag, and turned around with parade-ground precision, arm already halfway raised in a salute. His eyes widened when he spotted Ezra standing next to Anathema, who was trying not to laugh.

“Blondie?” he said incredulously.

“Hi there, Spaz,” Ezra greeted with a smile, returning a lazy salute.

“Okay, okay,” Ana said. “Who’s gonna tell me what’s going on here?”

“We were at basics together,” Newton explained. Seeing Ana’s confused expression, he clarified. “Basic training. In the army.”

“Yes, we spent a few months doing bootcamp at Heidelberg.”

“And you didn’t remember his name?” Ana was incredulous. “I mean, no offense Ezra, but Newton is a pretty unusual name. Sort of sticks in the mind, doesn’t it?”

“Honestly, my dear, I think I’ve blocked out most of my memories of those years,” Ezra said with a grimace. “But regardless, everyone went by their surnames in the army. If you’d said Pulsifer, I might have remembered.”

“Same here,” said Newton. “I mean, I didn’t recognise Ezra’s name either. Not sure I even remember his surname, actually. But, well, you can see where the nickname came from.” He gestured vaguely at Ezra’s head.

“Right,” agreed Ana. “And Spaz?”

“I fell over a lot,” Newton shrugged. “I was terrible at the obstacle courses.”

“The officers liked to give us nicknames,” Ezra explained. “I’m not sure whether they were too lazy or too stupid to remember our names, but they never bothered.”

“And they’d make up new ones on the fly.” Newt went on. “And heaven help you if you didn’t respond. Remember Corporal Brits and the debacle with Baksteen?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Ezra said with a shudder. “The man was an absolute animal.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ana interrupted. “Here I was, worrying that my boyfriend and my best friend wouldn’t get along, and just look at you two.” She was smiling broadly. “Now come on, let’s go get lunch. I’m starving.”

To everyone’s relief, Ezra and Newton got on splendidly. They spent their lunch hour happily trading memories from the army and stories about what they got up to in the years since then. There was an awkward moment when Newton asked if Ezra had a girlfriend, which was not a topic Ezra was willing to discuss in any depth, but he expertly deflected it with a comment about focusing on his studies for now. He hoped Newton wasn’t the jealous type; after all, Ezra spent an inordinate amount of time with his girlfriend.

All told, they had a very pleasant lunch, and parted with a firm commitment to spending some more time together in the near future.

\---

Saturday afternoon found Anton and Ezra walking around the Hillbrow Flea Market[55], looking at all the oddities on offer.

“Oh, look, the Rocky Horror Picture Show is showing again,” Anton remarked, pointing out the poster advertising the Mini Cine’s current attractions[56].

“Yes, I’ve seen that advertised a few times,” Ezra remarked. “I’ve never seen it, though.”

“What, never?” Anton sounded surprised.

“Well, it is, strictly speaking, banned,” Ezra said reproachfully.

“So?” Anton retorted. “You live practically on top of the Mini Cine, the one place in this blasted city that actually screens movies like these. I can’t believe you’ve never been. Aren’t you curious?”

“I guess,” Ezra conceded. “I just always assumed that there was a good reason for it being banned; that it must be somehow unsavoury.”

Anton huffed out a laugh. “Proper angel, aren’t you? Always play by the rules.”

Ezra considered for a moment. “Do you want to go see it with me?” he asked. “We could get tickets for tonight.”

“Sure,” Anton agreed. I’d have to stay over at yours, though, they’re only screening it at 9pm. No way I could get a bus back home that late.”

“Of course, you’re always welcome,” Ezra reassured him.

“Great,” Anton was smiling. “I should probably phone Harry to let him know I won’t be home tonight.” He made his way to a bank of pay phones.

“Ez,” he called out midway through the conversation, hand clamped over the phone’s mouthpiece. “Harry wants to know if he and Lu can join us?”

“Sure,” Ezra agreed. “The more the merrier. Do they want to sleep over too? I mean, it’ll just be a spot on the carpet, but they’re welcome.”

“I’ll ask, thanks.” Anton turned back to his call.

\--

The Rocky Horror Picture Show was unlike any movie Ezra had ever seen. Not just because of the bizarre plot or the otherworldly characters on the screen, but because of the frankly ridiculous behaviour of the people in the audience. They talked back to the screen, joined in the dances; a few of them were even in drag (which Ezra found a little alarming at first, but it started to make sense as the story unfolded). To his surprise, Anton was word-perfect on all the songs, singing along with great gusto.

“I take it you’ve seen this more than once before,” he said in Anton’s ear during a quiet-ish moment.

“Oh, yeah,” Anton answered. “Probably ten times, at least. It’s Lu’s favourite. Took me to see it the first time when I was probably 16. Real fucking eye-opener, that was.” Anton chuckled at the memory.

At the mention of Lunga, Ezra glanced over to him. To his surprise, the man had his hand entwined with his companion’s, stark white and midnight black fingers interwoven in a way that was impossible to read as simple friendship. He didn’t remark on it, though, because the next song started, and Anton pulled him to his feet along with the rest of the cinema. “You have to dance this bit!” he half-shouted in Ezra’s ear, and everything else was momentarily forgotten in the chaos of dancing to a rather ridiculous song about a time warp[57].

\---

“So, what did you think?” Anton asked afterwards. They were sitting on the couch in Ezra’s flat, enjoying a late supper of Fontana’s chicken[58]. Harry and Lu, as it turned out, had made their own arrangements for the night.

“Well, it’s unique, I’ll give you that,” Ezra said with a chuckle. “I can see why it was banned.”

“Fun, though,” Anton said. “Kinda... refreshing.”

“I suppose,” Ezra conceded. “I’ll certainly never think of the phrase ‘we’re having meatloaf for supper’ the same way.”

Anton snorted out a laugh. “ _That’s_ what you took away from that?”

They laughed together over the sheer ridiculousness of the movie while they finished their meal.

Over tea afterwards, Ezra decided to raise a question that had been bothering him all night.

“Anton,” he asked, tentatively, “Are Harry and Lu... together? Like, more than friends?”

“Why do you ask?” Anton replied, cagily.

“Only, I saw them holding hands in the movie...” Ezra explained.

“And?” Anton was still hedging, clearly afraid of saying something that could get his friends into trouble.

“It just seemed a little... more than friendly, I guess.” Ezra gave a small shrug.

“Would it be a problem, if they were... something more?” Anton asked carefully, and that was all the answer Ezra needed, really.

“No, no. Not at all. Honestly.” After a pause, he added, rather more quietly, “It would be a relief, actually.”

Anton’s eyes shot up. “What? How come?”

“Well, knowing they’re... gay...” the word was still so difficult to say, felt like it caught in his throat, threatening to choke him. Thanks, ma. “...and you don’t mind. That you’re still friends with them. It’s... good.”

“Well, it would be rather hypocritical of me to judge them for it,” Anton mumbled.

This time it was Ezra’s turn to look up in surprise.

“What? Do you mean... Are you...?” Ezra didn’t even know how to finish that sentence.

Anton was shifting in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Fok. Sorry. Didn’t mean to drop that on you like that.” He sighed. “But yes, since you ask, I go for guys. Girls too, sometimes, but on the whole it’s more often guys that catch my eye.”

Anton was eyeing Ezra carefully, waiting to see how he would react. “Is that... Do you want me to leave?” he asked carefully.

“No!” Ezra almost shouted it. “No, please,” he repeated more calmly. “Sorry, I was just... a little shocked, I guess. Not in a bad way,” he hastened to clarify. After a moment’s thought, he added, “In fact, can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” Anton frowned a little. “You know you can.”

Ezra took a deep breath. This was it, then. He knew Anton wouldn’t reject him over it, he had more than enough evidence of that, but it was still a bit scary. As if saying it out loud made it more real, somehow.

“Me too,” he said at last. He risked a look at Anton’s face and saw only the same acceptance there had always been. “I’m also... gay.” He concentrated on not choking on the word. It was a little easier, this time. “Not that I’ve ever been with anyone. Heck, only one other person besides you even knows, and she’s a girl.”

“Oh, angel,” Anton was positively beaming now. “You’re _one of us!_ ”

Ezra giggled, relieved. “I guess I am!”

That felt rather nice, actually. He had never felt like part of an ‘us’ before.

“So,” Anton said, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. “Any romantic interests I would want to know of?”

Ezra blushed. “Did I not just tell you that I’ve never been in a relationship?”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not interested in anyone,” Anton shrugged.

“Well, that remains to be seen, and it is none of your business.” It was, in fact, entirely his business. Possibly. “And you? Any boyfriend or girlfriend I need to meet?”

“Nah. Haven’t seen anyone seriously in a while. Went out with a few girls, but it never lasted more than a couple of months. They were never... quite right.”

“And guys?” Ezra asked, his voice betraying the nervousness he still felt around the whole topic.

Anton grimaced. “Do you have any fokken idea how hard it is to find other gay men in the townships? We don’t have fancy gay bars to hang out at like you white folks[59].”

This was news to Ezra, who hadn’t even considered the possibility that there could be places where gay people socialise openly.

“But to answer your question: I’ve had one or two flings, but nothing serious. Far too risky. Known a few sisters[60] who ended up behind bars[61].”

That was a sobering reminder that being as they were was not simply frowned upon – it could land them in serious trouble.

“It was the same in the army[62],” Ezra said sadly. “There were one or two guys who were... found out, over the course of my ensign. I’m not sure exactly what happened to them, but I saw one of them again when I just got to Joburg, and...” Ezra shuddered at the memory. James had been a nice enough guy when they were in basics, but a few years later, after the army had done whatever they had done to him, he was a broken shell of a man. He drank himself to death within a couple of years.

“I guess it’s rare to have what Harry and Lu have,” Ezra mused, somewhat wistfully.

“Yeah,” Anton agreed. “They’ve been an item since before I knew them, probably ten years now; that’s pretty damn impressive for anyone, straight or gay.”

“And they’ve never been found out?” Ezra was intrigued.

“Nah, not by anyone important. It helps that the three of us live together – makes it look like we’re all just housemates. No-one needs to know we only have two beds.” Anton gave Ezra a wink.

“Speaking of beds,” Ezra said with a yawn, “I’m going to crawl into mine. ‘s been a long day. Let me just get you some bedding.”

Ezra made up the couch while Anton visited the bathroom.

“Thanks, angel,” he said when he saw it. “For this,” he gestured vaguely at the makeshift bed, “but also just for everything. For being you.”

“It’s a pleasure, my dear,” Ezra said. He hesitated for a moment, then leaned over to wrap his arms around his friend. “Sleep well. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Anton said as he returned the hug. “Sweet dreams, angel.”

And despite all their history together, there was a new intimacy to that embrace, born of the knowledge of their shared secret; of knowing that, whatever else would happen, they were on the same team. It wasn’t anything other than platonic, and yet it felt like something more than simple friendship. It felt, Ezra thought, like coming home.

### Notes

54 “Troep Pulsifer! Op aandag!” translates as “Private Pulsifer! Attention!”Doesn't matter what your home language was, the army yelled at you in Afrikaans.[return to text]

55The The Hillbrow Flea Market was an underground (literally – it was in the basement) flea market where you could get anything from the latest comic books to a tattoo. It also housed the Mine Cine, which will feature in this chapter.[return to text]

56 The Mini Cine was famous for showing films that the major cinema chains would not show, including banned films such as A Clockwork Orange, Pink Floyd’s The Wall and, of course, the Rocky Horror Picture Show. They re-ran these every so often, since they were always popular.[return to text]

57 Here’s the Time Warp, if you’re interested: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umj0gu5nEGs> (There’s even some tap-dancing at the 3-minute mark – person this comment is for, you know who you are)[return to text]

58 Fontana was a 24-hour bakery/café/takeaway place, especially famous for its brown chicken. If you needed something to eat after a night of partying, or indeed needed anything at all in the middle of the night, Fontana was where you got it. The owner had a little ceremony at the opening, where he threw away the front door key “because we were never going to close.” Today it’s a Spar (chain supermarket), and is still open 24/7.[return to text]

59The Truth. There were gay bars, even in the 80’s, but they were still racially segregated. For example, Ezra would have been living a stone’s throw away from the Butterfly Bar (which later – circa 1987 – became Skyline, one of Hillbrow’s most well-known gay bars). It only started allowing black men in 1985, and it was one of the first places to do so. Lesbians of any race were only welcomed from 1994. It seems the culture of exclusionism was very deeply entrenched in the South African psyche.[return to text]

60 “Sisters” is one of the terms gay men use to refer to each other. SA’s LGBT community developed a whole gay language called Gayle which allowed them to talk openly without being understood by outsiders (comparable to Polari in the UK).[return to text]

61 At the time, sexual relations between men was punishable by up to seven years in prison.[return to text]

62 It was, in fact, a whole lot worse in the army. If you want a real-life horror story, go read up on [The Aversion Project](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Aversion_Project), which was basically the SADF’s enforced conversion therapy for any conscripts that were identified as gay. It was properly dangerous to be out in those days. Especially since two years of army service was mandatory.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun and irrelevant fact: I remember my mom telling me that she first saw Rocky Horror when she was 16 (so, probably 1976), and being so shocked she nearly walked into traffic leaving the cinema [the film was banned the next week]. She paid forward the “kindness” by showing me both Rocky Horror and The Wall on the same night when I was probably about the same age. I was thoroughly weirded out.


	10. Quality time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra and Anton spend the day together after the movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all just fluff, with a pinch of pining sprinkled in.

When Ezra woke up the next morning, sometime after 8, the flat was still dead quiet. He wondered for a moment whether Anton had left already, but then remembered that it was Sunday so he wouldn’t have had to go to work. He made his way out of the bedroom to discover that Anton was, indeed, still fast asleep on the couch. He was lying on his side, one hand buried under the pillow and his knees pulled up in front of him to allow his long legs to fit onto the couch. The blanket had slipped down to his hips, and Ezra noted with interest that Anton had slept without a shirt. Feeling a little naughty, but doing it nonetheless, he allowed himself a moment to study his sleeping friend.

Anton really was quite beautiful, with his skin like polished imbuia and his glossy, pitch-black hair. He was lean, yet clearly well-muscled, probably from all the years of physical work in the gardens. Ezra was seized by a sudden desire to touch; to run his hand down Anton’s back, or perhaps card his fingers through his hair. He blushed at the inappropriateness of the thought, and turned to the kitchen counter to make himself a cup of tea.

The noise of the kettle boiling must have woken Anton, because there was a thump from the direction of the couch, followed by a muffled “Eina[63], fok.”

Ezra giggled. “Are you okay there?” he called out.

Anton emerged over the backrest of the couch, rubbing his head. “Hit my head on the blerrie[64] coffee table,” he said grumpily.

“Ag sorry[65],” said Ezra. “How about some tea?”

“Thanks” Anton said, sinking back down onto the couch.

Ezra prepared a cup of Ceylon tea for himself and rooibos for Anton, and carried both mugs over to the couch.

“Did you sleep all right?” he asked. “You looked a little cramped.”

“Nah, ’s fine,” Anton reassured him. “Slept like a baby.”

“That’s good,” Ezra said.

They sipped their tea in silence for a while. Then Ezra piped up, “So, what do you have planned for today?”

“Not much,” Anton answered. “You?”

“I have some work to get done for varsity, but other than that, no plans. Maybe we can get brunch somewhere?”

“Sounds good.” Anton agreed. “You have anything in mind?”

“Not really.” Ezra thought about it for a moment. “I usually have brunch at the Chelsea Hotel, but, well...” _They won’t let you in the dining room, because you happen to be the wrong colour_ , was the rest of the sentence that Ezra couldn’t bring himself to say. He was quickly developing a passionate hatred for all those stupid little laws that governed their lives.

“I have an idea,” Anton said. “Have you ever been to the Oriental Plaza[66]?”

“No.” Ezra had never even heard of it.

“Great, let’s go there for brunch. You’ll love it.”

\--

The Plaza turned out to be unlike anything Ezra had ever seen. The air was filled with the unfamiliar scents of spices and incense, every little shop seemed filled to the brim with merchandise ranging from colourful cloth to smart suits to kitchenware, and the noise level was somewhere just below pain threshold. Most of the traders seemed to be Indian, and he gawped at the women in their headscarves and veils. This was not something he was used to at all.

Anton seemed perfectly at home, and made his way to a pokey little eatery in one corner of the centre. “World of Samoosas[67],” read the sign above the entryway. He regarded the plastic tables and gaudy décor skeptically, but decided to trust Anton’s judgement; he clearly knew the place.

Ezra stared at his menu uncomprehendingly. He recognised words like “chicken” and “lamb”, but the rest was a mess of unfamiliar terms. In his world, curry was something that came in one flavour, from a Cartwrights packet. “What do you recommend?” he asked Anton. “I’m afraid I don’t even know what most of these things are.”

“Hmm, depends.” Anton’s eyes scanned the menu. ”The vegetable jalfrezi is ridiculously good – I swear, I don’t know how they make vegetables and tomato taste like that. The mutton daal gosht is fantastic, and the butter chicken puts Fontana to shame. The vindaloo is also excellent, but be careful, it will burn your tongue right off if you’re not used to it.”

“Oh goodness, no, I think I’ll rather stick to something milder,” Ezra said.

“Tell you what,” Anton said. “Why don’t I order two things that I know are good, then you can pick the one you like best and I’ll have the other one.”

“Sounds perfect, dear,” Ezra said with a smile.

Anton ended up getting the vegetable jalfrezi and the butter chicken, along with a couple of roti. Ezra regarded the little coper bowls with interest: the food looked strange, but it smelled divine. He fished out something that proved to be a mushroom from the jalfrezi and bit into it.

_Oh, wow!_ The flavours that exploded on his tongue were a revelation; he could feel his eyes growing wide. Anton was watching him with a smug little grin.

“Good, eh?” he asked.

“That’s incredible!” Ezra said enthusiastically after swallowing. “Here, let me try the chicken.”

He spooned up a piece of chicken in yellowish sauce and popped it into his mouth.

“Hmmm!” He couldn’t hold back a little moan of pleasure. The flavour of the chicken was so different from that of the vegetables, and yet just as amazing.

“I honestly don’t know which is better,” he said to Anton.

“Well, let’s have half each then,” Anton replied. “Try having the sauce with the roti.”

Ezra mimicked Anton, tearing off a piece of the buttery flatbread and dragging it through the sauce, and he wouldn’t have thought it was possible but that made the flavour even better.

“Hm, I’ve never tasted food like this,” he said happily. “Thank you for suggesting this, my dear.”

“Thanks for coming, angel,” Anton grinned at him, and Ezra grinned back, wondering how in the world he found himself sitting in an Indian bazaar on a Sunday morning, eating exquisite food with the best friend he never thought he’d see again and being called angel. It was like a wonderful dream, and he never wanted to wake up.

\--

After brunch, they spent some time wandering around the Plaza, looking at all the interesting wares on sale and just enjoying the unusualness of it all. Despite living in one of the most cosmopolitan areas of Joburg, Ezra really didn’t get out much, and the whole outing felt rather like discovering a new world.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, though, he was forced to admit that he should probably get back home and hit the books; he had a test on Monday afternoon that he was not at all ready for.

“Oh ja, sure,” Anton said when he mentioned this. “Should leave you in peace to do your work, yeah?”

Ezra really didn’t want to say goodbye to Anton, didn’t want their day together to end just yet. Judging by the look on his friend’s face, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang around,” he said. “I mean, I’ll have my nose in a book, so I won’t exactly be exciting company, but if you don’t have anywhere to be...” Ezra trailed off, feeling silly for suggesting his friend basically come over and be ignored. Anton was chuckling, though.

“Ez, you’ve had your nose in a book for as long as I’ve known you. Hasn’t bothered me yet.”

Ezra brightened at this. “So you’ll come?”

“’Course I will,” Anton said. “Be just like old times. Except this time around, I can lie on my backside while you study instead of digging around in the garden, pretending not to be kuiering[68] with you.”

Ezra had to laugh at that.

\--

Ezra spent the rest of the afternoon studying while Anton lounged on the couch, reading and napping, occasionally making Ezra a cup of tea.

In a sense it was, indeed, just like old times; they were as at ease in each other’s company as they had ever been. It was funny, Ezra mused, how the years in-between had not changed that in the slightest.

In another sense, however, it was not like old times at all. Something had changed; something he did not quite dare put a name to, even to himself, but that he was aware of nonetheless. It sat in the back of his mind like an itch that no amount of twisting would allow him to scratch, like a tune that got stuck in his head, playing on repeat over and over and over again. It flared up in his chest every time they shared a smile, twisted in his stomach with every casual touch. It drew his gaze away from his books, time and again, to linger on the man napping on his couch, marvelling at how well he seemed to fit right there, in Ezra’s home.

It was, simply put, an overwhelming desire to have this man in his life, to keep him near; a strangely possessive urge that wanted to bare its teeth and growl _mine!_

It was, Ezra knew, utterly absurd.

But then, the heart rarely listened to reason.

With a sigh, he moved to wake Anton up before he missed the last bus out.

### Notes

63 Eina = ouch.[return to text]

64 Blerrie = the SA version of “bloody” (as in “bloody hell”, not as in “covered in blood.”)[return to text]

65 will say sorry (or askies, if they’re Afrikaans), guaranteed. It’s more an expression of sympathy than an apology. The “ag” is pronounced like the German “ach”.[return to text]

66 The Oriental Plaza in Fordsburg is one of my favourite places; it’s like a big Middle-Eastern bazaar in the heart of Joburg. It was developed when a whole Indian traders’ neighbourhood was forcibly relocated to Fordsburg from Pageview to make room for whites.[return to text]

67 I don’t know if the World of Samoosas was open yet in 1983 (first time I went there was probably late 90’s/early 00’s) but their food is out of this world and dirt cheap. The vegetable jalfrezi is a revelation. They also make sweet coconut samosas which are something else.[return to text]

68 Kuier (pronounced kay-er, with a hard r) translates directly as “visit”, but the ‘feel’ of the word is closer to “hanging out”.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shortish one today - sorry - maybe to make it up to you all I'll post the next one (also shortish) tomorrow instead of Saturday...


	11. Anton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Anton's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we should have a look at what Anton thinks of this whole situation. Also, more Harry and Lu, being adorably annoying. Love those bastards.

Anton reluctantly made his way home from Ezra’s flat, wishing with his whole heart that he’d had some excuse to extend their visit just a little longer. And then a little longer again. He wasn’t a fool; he knew he would never quite get to a point where he would be ready to leave.

His mind ran back over the last 24 hours, hope and despair warring in his heart. Finding out that Ezra was gay had been both wonderful and agonising. Because there had been one little untruth in the story he’d told Ezra, when he’d spoken about his previous relationships and why they’d never lasted. _‘They were never quite right,’_ he’d said, when the truth was _‘they were never *you*.’_

He couldn’t quite pinpoint when his feelings for Ezra had strayed into something more that friendship, it had been such a gradual thing. He just knew that one day in that last summer they’d spent together, he’d looked at his best friend and thought _‘I want to kiss you.’_

That had come as a hell of a shock.

After coming to Joburg, he’d tried his damnedest to forget the kind, soft blonde boy he’d grown up with, but he could never find anyone to take his place. It was as if his heart had grown up around the shape of Ezra, and with him gone, there was an Ezra-shaped hole that no-one else could fill.

He’d begun to wonder, over the years, if his own mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe he’d remembered Ezra as being something better than he truly was. He tried to convince himself that Ezra wouldn’t even want to know him now – he’d seen enough of the world in the meantime to know just how much of a nobody he was. Probably Ezra was dating some nice girl, was maybe even married, living back on the family farm with his despicable relatives.

He had tried, desperately, to forget him.

And then the universe had, quite literally, dropped Ezra right in his path. One smile, and he felt his world tilt; one conversation, and he was right back where he’d been eight years ago, hopelessly smitten with his best friend. No hope of forgetting him now, was there? Especially since Ezra seemed so keen to stay in touch. And then to have the bombshell dropped on him that Ezra was gay? Okay, he barely had one foot out of the closet, but still. It was unfair how much that made Anton hope for things that the rational side of his mind knew he could never have.

\--

“Where’ve you been? Harry asked as he walked into the house. He was busy stirring something on the stove, while Lunga sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper.

“What? You know I slept over at Ezra’s,” Anton answered.

“Yes, but it’s nearly dark.” Harry pointed out. “Expected you back hours ago.”

“Sorry, dad,” Anton huffed, “Didn’t realise I had a curfew.”

“Oh, stop being a baby, Mfezi,” Lunga spoke up. “You know he’s just worried for you. It can be dangerous, hanging out with the mlungu[69].”

“I know.” Anton sank down in a chair. He didn’t bother arguing that Ezra was safe, when inserting himself into Ezra’s world was as safe as wandering into a band of hungry hyenas.

Anton debated with himself whether to share his new information about Ezra with Harry and Lunga. On the one hand, he didn’t want to betray Ezra’s confidence, and they hadn’t exactly discussed who was allowed to know. On the other hand, he desperately wanted to talk to his friends. Heck, they may even have some good advice, if he could survive the inevitable teasing.

“So, how’s your little blonde boy?” Harry asked, sitting down.

“He’s not mine,” Anton huffed (– even though I want him to be, he did not add). “But he’s okay. Bit of warning, though, he saw you guys holding hands at the cinema, so the cat’s out of the bag there. Don’t worry though,” Anton added quickly, seeing the look Harry and Lunga exchanged, “He won’t make trouble. In fact,” Anton took a breath. Oh well, here goes. “Turns out... he’s also gay.”

“Well, duh,” Harry responded.

“You only figured this out now?” Lunga added.

“Wha-? How do _you_ know?” Anton was stunned.

“That Mary[70]? Spotted him a mile off.” Harry said. Anton belatedly remembered that Harry had an uncannily good gaydar; the three of them had spent many a lazy Sunday morning people-watching as Harry pointed out the closet queens in the crowd.

“You could’ve told me,” Anton mumbled.

“Assumed you knew,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“More important question,” Lunga asked, “Do you like him?”

“Mngkf,” was all Anton could manage.

“Thought so,” Lunga said smugly.

“Yes, I like him, okay,” Anton answered, exasperated. “I always have. Was a mess over him for years. Even through every other lover I’ve had. Wanna know why it never worked out with anyone else? Because they weren’t him. Because I’d look at them, and wish I was looking at blue eyes and blonde curls and pale skin.” Anton was getting quite worked up now, pacing up and down the kitchen. “I thought I’d forget him, you know. That I’d move on. And then I see him once and my whole stupid blerrie heart jumps right back into his hands. I’m screwed.”

“So tell him,” Harry says.

“Are you crazy?” Anton almost wailed. “There’s no way I can do that. There’s absolutely zero chance I can have him. Niks. Nada. Fokkol. So I’m not gonna risk ruining a good friendship.”

He saw Harry and Lunga exchange a meaningful look. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

Lunga was the first to speak up. “Well, I don’t like to jump to conclusions, but the way he looks at you...”

“What do you mean?” Anton interrupted. “He doesn’t look at me in any sort of funny way.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry interjected. “The last time I saw such a sappy look was when Lu laid eyes on me the first time.”

“Lu was drunk when you guys met,” Anton pointed out.

“So?” Harry retorted. “Do you not see him living in my house? Sleeping in my bed? Kissing me every day?” A point he emphasised by giving his partner an exaggeratedly messy smooch on the mouth.

“Ugh, don’t be gross,” Anton said, swatting at them. “Besides, Ezra just looks like that, all joy and sunshine. Always has, since we were kids.”

“Well, then, he’s clearly been crushing on you a lot longer than you think,” Lunga said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anton laid his head on the table and groaned.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what,” Harry said. “Give us some more time to watch you two together, and we’ll tell you what’s what.”

“Oh, yes?” Anton bit back. “And how am I supposed to do that, pray tell?” He mimicked speaking into a telephone. “‘Hi, angel, can I come over for tea and bring my two deranged housemates along’?”

Harry smirked at the ‘angel’.

“Wait, I know,” Lunga said. “Why don’t we invite him over here?”

“You’re joking, right?” Anton asked.

“Dead serious,” Lunga answered. “It’s my birthday next week. That’s as good an excuse as any, right? Invite him over for cake.”

“Or a braai[71],” Harry interjected. “Ja, Saturday afternoon, after you finish work. You can go get him, bring him over.”

“Seriously?” Anton asked, sceptically. “What happened to staying away from the mlungu?”

Harry just shrugged. “You like this one. We’ll make an exception.”

“Might as well, if you’re gonna be mooning over him,” Lunga added.

Anton groaned again. “You guys are the worst.” All three of them knew he didn’t mean it.

“Yep,” Harry said proudly. “So, are you gonna call him, or will I?”

Anton gave up. “Fine, I’ll call him tomorrow. Happy?”

\--

Anton kept his word and called Ezra from a payphone after work on Monday, if only because he knew his housemates wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace if he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if Ezra would be home from class yet, but he had to try.

He was just about to hang up on the endless ringing when the phone was picked up, and a moment later Ezra’s voice was saying hello.

“Hey angel,” he greeted. “It’s me. Anton.”

Ezra laughed. “Of course it is, no-one else calls me angel. How are you, my dear?”

“Not bad. Listen, I have to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“The guys want you to come over. Harry and Lu, I mean,” Anton explained. “It’s Lu’s birthday on Friday, but we’re all working, so we’re gonna celebrate with a braai on Saturday. Usually it’s just the three of us, but Lu decided he wants you to come too this year. Not that you have to, I mean, if you’re not comfortable, I know you hardly even know them, but–“

“Anton!” Ezra interrupted his rambling. “Of course I’ll come.”

“Really?” Anton was genuinely surprised.

“Sure. I’d love to get to know your friends better.”

“Wow. Okay, That’s great then.” Anton smiled. “I’ll come to yours when I’m done with work on Saturday then. We can go to our place together. Fok, you’ll have to come on the bus with me, will you be okay with that?” He hadn’t considered that particular detail before; that there were no white buses going into the townships. Ezra might not like that.

“I can’t imagine that that would be a problem,” Ezra said, to Anton’s relief.

“You’re the best, Ez,” he said fondly.

“Hardly, my dear,” Ezra retorted with a chuckle.

“See you Saturday, then?” he asked.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Ezra answered, and Anton could hear the smile in his voice.

They said goodbye, and Anton couldn’t help smiling all the way home, couldn’t wipe the grin off his face all evening, his housemates’ teasing be damned.

### Notes

69The Mlungu = Zulu/Xhosa for white (person), usually derogatory.[return to text]

70 Mary = a Gayle slang term for an obviously gay man.[return to text]

71 Braai = a barbecue. Generally (like in this context) it refers to a social gathering revolving around the cooking of meat on an open fire. A “bring-en-braai” is the standard South African kuier, where everything brings their own meat and drinks to the party. It is also known as a “chop-en-dop” (dop=booze, chop as in meat), which is just one of my favourite phrases.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for fun, here’s a hilarious insurance ad that highlights some South African oddities. It’s absolutely accurate, and still makes me laugh even though I’ve seen it countless times. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViorVDgiiOg> (It might help to know that bakkie is the SA term for what Americans call a pickup truck)


	12. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana decides it's time for a trip to the Emmarentia rose gardens to meet a certain gardener.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: one unsavoury character being racist and throwing out a homophobic slur. He gets very little screentime, though.

Ana had been nagging Ezra to go see the rose gardens at Emmarentia for months. When he told her than Anton worked there, she put her foot down, and he found himself being dragged there on Saturday morning. She claimed it was because the roses’ blooming season would soon be over and she wanted to see them one last time, but Ezra knew she was hoping to meet Anton. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed; he had spent all of lunchtime on Monday (and every subsequent day) freaking out at her over the fact that Anton was bisexual and that he, Ezra, was very much falling for him all over again.

~

“But hang on now, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it a _good_ thing that he likes guys?” she had asked.

“No, it’s not!” he had retorted. “Because now I can’t even tell myself that he doesn’t like men – now the only possibility is that he doesn’t like _me,_ specifically.”

“Did he say he doesn’t like you?” Ana had asked. “Like, did you say anything to him, about liking him?”

“No, good Lord, Ana!” Ezra had been aghast at the very suggestion. “I can’t freak out my best friend by suddenly going all romantic on him! What if he runs again, and this time it’s my fault?”

“Do you really think he would?” she asked, sceptically.

“I don’t know. But that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Okay, but what if there’s a chance? What if he likes you too?” Ana’s relentless interrogation had continued. “Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Trust me, Ana, there isn’t.” Ezra had been adamant. “He could have a perfectly happy life settled down with a woman. Why would he trade that for a doubly-illegal[72] relationship with the likes of me?”

“Because you’re you,” had been her matter-of-fact answer, which, in Ezra’s opinion, supported his side of the argument far more than hers.

~

“We’re here,” Newton announced, stopping the car. He had come along for the outing, being the only one of them who owned a car – a rather rickety light-blue Ford Anglia[73]. Ana had taken the front seat, leaving Ezra by himself in the back to stare out of the window and daydream. He had been so lost in thought that he had barely been aware of the twenty-minute drive.

They entered the park at the main entrance and followed the meandering pathways through the trees toward the rose garden. Now that they were here, Ezra felt extremely nervous. He hadn’t spoken to Anton since Monday, so he hadn’t been able to warn him that they would be visiting. Maybe he would be lucky and Anton would not be working in the rose garden today. Or would that be unlucky? Hard to decide. He shot a cursory glance around the park, but didn’t see any sign of him.

The three of them walked around the rose garden, stopping to examine and smell any rose that particularly caught their eye. Ezra was nose-deep in a particularly fragrant dark-red bloom when he heard a familiar voice behind him, saying “That’s one of my favourites.”

“Anton!” Ezra could hear the delight in his own voice and wondered whether it was obvious to anyone else.

“Hey angel,” Anton greeted him with a happy smile. “Finally come to admire my handiwork?”

“Something like that,” Ezra responded. “Actually, I’m here with a friend I’d like you to meet. “Ana!” he called out to her where she and Newton were engaged in a conversation that seemed to involve an awful lot of giggling. They made their way over.

“You must be Anton,” Ana said, smiling warmly and offering a hand to shake. “I’m Ana. This is my boyfriend, Newton,” she said, gesturing to him. “Anton’s a childhood friend of Ezra’s,” Ana explained for Newton’s benefit.

Anton wiped his hand on his overalls before taking Ana’s. “Ah, the famous friend from varsity that Ezra’s always talking about. Nice to finally meet you.”

“I’m scared to ask what he’s been telling you about me,” she laughed.

“If you don’t believe everything he tells you about me, I’ll do the same,” Anton replied with a wicked grin.

“Well,” Ana replied with a teasing smile of her own, “So far he’s only been saying wonderful things about you, so I’m not sure what to disbelieve.”

“Okaaay,” Ezra interrupted their conversation, before Ana went any further. “Embarrassing Ezra hour is officially over. Ana, didn’t you have somewhere else to be?” He playfully shooed her off to the side.

Ana gave him one of her funny looks. “Yes, actually; I wanted to show Newt that statue over there,” she said, and walked off, towing her rather bewildered boyfriend behind her.

“So. That’s Ana,” Ezra said.

“I can see why you like her,” Anton said. “She looks like a handful.”

“Two handfuls, at least,” Ezra agreed with a chuckle.

“So,” Anton said, gesturing expansively around the garden. “What do you think?”

“Oh, my dear, it’s simply breathtaking,” Ezra gushed. He wasn’t exaggerating; the gardens were truly magnificent, with the roses in full bloom. ”I wouldn’t have expected anything else, with you looking after them. You always did have a magic touch with plants.”

Anton smiled happily at the praise. “Come look at these,” he said, leading Ezra to a bush laden with heavy white roses. “I call them snowballs. Look, they start out pink, and then as they open up, they turn white[74].”

Ezra leaned in, looking at the delicate white petals. Looking, it must be said, just as much at the slender fingers that were gently cupping the blossom.

He could see that Anton was right; the rosebuds were entirely a darkish pink colour, while the fully open blooms were a beautiful white. “I think I like them best when they’re like this,” Ezra said, gesturing to a half-open bloom, its petals mostly white but still tipped with pink. “A little bit of both.”

Before he knew it, Anton had produced a pair of secateurs from a back pocket and snipped the bloom off, handing it to Ezra. “A little memento,” he said shyly.

“Anton!” Ezra scolded, “You can’t go cutting off the flowers! You’ll get in trouble!” Despite his protestations, he was immensely pleased with his gift.

“Cutting off flowers? Me?” Anton protested innocently. “Why, you must be mistaken, sir. It simply fell off the bush.”

Ezra chuckled at Anton’s overly posh accent. “You fiend!” he said, before bringing the rose up to his nose to smell it. “Thank you, my dear,” he said with a smile. “It’s simply lovely.”

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50026185348/in/dateposted-public/)

“Hey! Wat de hel dink jy doen jy![75]” A brash voice shouted from somewhere off to the side.

“O, fok,” Anton said softly. Ezra looked over his shoulder to see a man in uniform bearing down on them. His face was locked in an angry scowl.

“Is there a problem, sir?” Ezra asked when the man got near enough.

“What are you doing with my roses, hey?” the man demanded in a heavy Afrikaans accent. “You think you can just come in here and pick them? Can’t you read the blerrie signs?”

“That one was broken, baas,” Anton defended him. “Bent at the stem. Would have died anyway.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion!” the man barked. “What are you doing here anyway? Get back to work, fokken luigat[76]!” He turned back to Ezra as Anton walked away. “And you, if I see you touch my roses again, I’ll call security.” With this, the man turned on his heel and stomped off, mumbling under his breath about _‘fokken rooinek moffies[77]’_.

Ana had sidled up to him in the meantime, the commotion having caught her attention. “What the hell was that?” she asked Ezra.

Ezra sighed. “Anton’s boss, I’m guessing. Ugh, he reminds me of my brother.”

“What a despicable man.” To Ezra’s surprise, it was Newton speaking. Ezra looked up to see the usually soft-spoken man was scowling angrily, his face flushed.

“Yes, he was rather,” Ezra agreed. He glanced over to Anton again, then looked around to make sure his boss was out of sight. “If you’ll just give me a minute, I need to talk to Anton. Then I think I’d rather like to go.”

“Of course,” Ana said.

He made his way over to where Anton was furiously doing something incomprehensible to the shrubbery, eyes fixed on his hands.

“My dear,” he started, but Anton cut him off.

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” he hissed through clenched teeth, still staring straight ahead of him. “At least, not out here,” he added.

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said, taken aback. “I just wanted to tell you we’re going. I’ll still see you later, yes? For Lunga’s birthday?”

Anton’s expression softened a bit; some of the tension left his jaw. “’Course, yeah. I’ll come to yours as soon as I get off work.”

“Wonderful,” said Ezra. “Oh, that reminds me, do your friends drink wine? I’d feel terribly rude to turn up at a party empty handed.”

Anton huffed a laugh. “I doubt it. They drink beer, and brandy and Coke when they can get it. Which is rarely. But you don’t have to bring anything, really.”

“Nonsense,” Ezra retorted. “I’ll see you later then.”

“See you, angel.” Anton still hadn’t looked up from his hands, but Ezra could see the corner of his mouth twitch up in a smile. Oh well, that would have to do, then.

\--

Back in the car, Ana accosted him. “I wasn’t going to ask, but I’m too nosy for my own good: what’s with the rose?”

Ezra looked up from the flower he had been twirling between his fingers. “Anton cut it for me. He was showing me how these roses start out from pink buds and then turn white. It’s the most extraordinary thing.”

Newton cleared his throat. “He... gave you a flower?” Ezra could see in the rear-view mirror that he was wearing a thoughtful little frown.

“I guess,” Ezra said, warily.

“Look, this may not be my place,” Newton said carefully, “But you two seem like... really good friends?”

“We are,” Ezra answered him. “We’ve known each other for most of our lives.”

“Oh.” Newton said, then, after a pause, “Just friends?”

Ezra shot Ana a glare. What had she been telling her boyfriend? Ana held her hands up innocently.

Newton, unaware of the silent conversation happening between his two passengers, continued talking hesitantly. “Only, well. Guys don’t usually give their friends flowers. Or call them angel, or my dear. It’s all a bit...” Newton squirmed uncomfortably. “What I’m trying to say is... if there’s something... it’s fine. Don’t... don’t think you have to walk on eggshells around me. It’s... it’s all fine. That’s all.”

Ezra let out a breath. “Thank you, Newton. I guess it’s not too hard to spot what I am. Even that ogre of a man picked up on it. But there truly is nothing but friendship between me and Anton, and that’s all there’s ever likely to be.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ezra!” Ana burst out. “Don’t you see the way he looks at you?”

“What do you mean?” Ezra said.

“Let me put it this way: the last time I saw that expression, was right after I kissed Newt the first time.”

Ezra couldn’t help noticing the way Newton’s face softened into a smile at the memory. Since they were standing still at a red robot[78], he leaned over to give Ana a quick peck on the cheek, adoration etched in every line of his face.

Was that the look Ana was talking about? Impossible. Surely he’d have noticed it by now.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, my dear,” he said to Ana. “You just want me to have a boyfriend too so that you don’t feel alone. It’s clouding your judgement.”

“For what it’s worth,” Newton chipped in, “I’m with Ana on this one. And I’m not particularly invested in your dating life.”

Ezra groaned. “Can we please talk about literally anything else.”

“Okay, okay,” Ana agreed. “What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”

Ezra groaned again. Was there no escaping the subject?

\--

When Ezra got home, he placed his rose in a glass of water, and set it down on his bedside table, where it would be the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes, and the first thing to greet him in the morning. And every time it caught his eye, he couldn’t help but smile. It was still pleasant to dream, even if those dreams could never come true.

### Notes 

72 Both male-male and interracial sexual relationships were illegal at the time.[return to text]

73 Why an Anglia? Well, because the Wasabi is fictional, and Reliants weren’t imported into SA. Also, my dad’s first car was an old Anglia, so a bit of sentiment creeping in there. And come on, have you seen an Anglia? Specifically, the 105E. I would describe it as “geeky, yet adorable.” Just like Newt.[return to text]

74The If you’re interested, the rose Anton is showing Ezra is called _Boule de neige_ (French for snowball). Google some pictures, they’re truly lovely.[return to text]

75 “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”[return to text]

76 Luigat = lazy arse.[return to text]

77 Fucking English faggots. “Rooinek” refers to a Brit and literally translates as redneck (no relation to the American term); the Afrikaners coined the term to describe the British because they tend to burn in the hot African sun. If I recall correctly, its use goes back at least to the Anglo Boer War.[return to text]

78 A robot is a traffic light. I have no idea why, but that’s what everyone in SA calls it.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS!! I keep forgetting to say: Tezca made a PLAYLIST for this fic! The songs are just perfect!
> 
> Find it on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ECA8K6eacJQtORgQD6tbw?si=Zwml12yqRHSsVDwAailCpg) (bonus: it's open, so if anyone wants to add something, feel free!). There's also a Tumblr post [here](https://waylonjenningslittlefield.tumblr.com/post/621406130176999424/in-fair-sa-where-we-lay-our-scene-true-love-will) explaining how everything fits and with links to all the lyrics. Seriously, I'm freaking out at how awesome this is!


	13. Braai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra visits Soweto for Lunga's birthday. We get to know those two a bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, y'all in the comments going "I can't wait for the party" 😅 I hope this lives up to expectations. It does sorta bleed over into the next chapter too, so this is the first half. Enjoy some more Harry and Lu being the best annoying older brothers.

The journey to Harry’s place in Dube[79] was an adventure in itself. They took a non-white bus to the outskirts of Soweto, which was not an unusual experience, although Ezra drew a few curious stares and a lot of _sotto voce_ murmuring in some African language that he did not understand.

To get to Dube itself, though, they had to take a taxi, and that was a whole other experience[80]. Ezra learned that a township taxi was something very different to the “huurmotors” he sometimes saw in the city: they were mostly old minibuses that seemed only marginally roadworthy, packed full to the brim with people. Personal space was not an option, as the taxi operators tried to squeeze the maximum earnings out of every trip. The driver and passengers alike did not hesitate to express their surprise at Ezra’s presence – as a white man, he was an automatic object of distrust – and Anton had several furious conversations in Zulu to smooth things over.

The taxi dropped them two blocks from Harry’s house, and they walked the rest of the way, Ezra drawing stares from everyone they passed. Children ran up to him, clapping their hands and yelling _“sweets! sweets!”_ , clearly assuming that a white man would be carrying such luxuries on his person. Neighbours greeted Anton as they passed, exchanging a wave and a smile. The houses and yards they passed were small and bare, but clean, with only the occasional stunted thorn tree offering relief from the sun-baked dirt that passed for gardens here.

Harry’s house was unremarkable; the wire mesh fence, peeling off-white paint and corrugated metal roof was similar to every other house on the street. There was one difference, though: large pots overflowing with flowers, arranged all along the front of the house. Ezra grinned; that was Anton’s doing, no doubt.

“I like your garden,” he said to his friend.

“Thanks,” Anton responded with a grin. “You should see my veggies in the back.”

He pushed open the front door and Ezra followed him inside.

“Guys? We’re here!” Anton yelled, to be answered with a “Back here!” from behind the house somewhere.

They had entered the house via the kitchen, which housed a small fridge, a two-plate stove, and a table with four chairs. Anton stepped through to the next room and gestured for Ezra to follow. It turned out to be the living room, containing two mismatched armchairs and a couch, a table with a radio and – to Ezra’s secret delight – a shelf full of books.

He made his way across the living room to a door that was standing open, leading to the back yard. Ezra could hear Harry’s voice coming from outside. Ezra saw that he was busy stacking wood in a makeshift fire pit while Lunga lounged on a plastic garden chair.

“Mfezi! Blondie!” Harry exclaimed as he caught sight of them.

“Not Blondie, please!” Ezra chuckled. “That’s what they called me in the army. Ugh.” He shuddered theatrically.

“Mhlophe, then,” Lunga suggested.

“Means white,” Anton explained, in response to Ezra’s curiously raised eyebrow.

“Okay, I can live with that,” Ezra laughed.

“Or... ingelosi[81]?” Harry said with a sly grin. For some incomprehensible reason, Anton slapped him alongside the head in a friendly sort of way.

“Thank you for inviting me over,” Ezra said to Lunga. “And happy birthday! I brought you something,” he said, handing over the packet he’d been carrying.

“Schweeeet!” Lunga exchanged, pulling out a bottle of Klipdrift brandy[82]. “I like this guy, Mfez’, you should bring him over more often!”

“Nice!” Harry agreed. “I’ll run down to the spaza[83], get us a couple bottles of Coke to go with that. Anyone want anything else?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Anton answered, and Harry took off.

-

They were still waiting for Harry to get back when a woman’s voice called out from the direction of the front door. “Kô kô!”

“In the back, mama,” Lunga called out, getting up off his chair. Moments later, a very short, very round black woman with a shock of grey hair emerged from the house.

“Sanibonani, mama,” Lunga said warmly, embracing the woman.

“Sanibonani, my boys,” she replied, hugging Lunga and then Anton. “Where’s that naughty one of mine?” she asked. Ezra assumed that this must be Harry’s mother.

“He just went to the shops quickly,” Lunga said. “I’m surprised you didn’t see him on the way.”

“Buying cigarettes again, I’m sure,” she huffed. Then she looked over at Ezra. “And? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?” she asked. And now Ezra could see why Anton had said she reminded him of Sophie; she had that same teasing twinkle in her eye.

“I’m Ezra,” he said, extending a hand for her to shake. “I’m an old friend of Anton’s.”

She looked him up and down critically. “Friend, eh? Okay. Nice to meet you, then. You can call me Aida, or Mama Aida if you plan to stick around.”

“Mama Aida it is, then,” Ezra said with a smile. He was definitely planning on sticking around.

Lunga moved into the house to make a cup of tea for Mama Aida, while she settled herself in his newly vacated chair. “You brought cake!” he exclaimed when he got to the kitchen.

“Of course, my boy. Harry told me you were having a guest, and he never thinks of these things. You can’t have a birthday celebration without cake!” Ezra was very much inclined to agree.

“I hope you’ll stay and celebrate with us?” Anton asked her.

“No, I’m on my way to Zandi’s; just stopped by to meet your new friend,” Mama Aida said. She turned to Ezra. “So, tell me. Where do you know my boys from?”

Ezra was a bit nervous about revealing his connection to Anton; after all, this was the lady that had picked him up off the streets after his family had put them there.

“I only met Harry and Lunga maybe two weeks ago,” he said, “But I’ve known Anton since we were little kids, before we lost touch. I’m afraid my family treated him terribly badly.”

Mama Aida seemed unsurprised at this, which made Ezra wonder how much of this story she had already heard from ‘her boys’. She looked back and forth between him and Anton a few times before she seemed to make up her mind about something.

“You’re honest,” she said. “I like that.” Ezra couldn’t help but smile.

Lunga brought out the tea, Harry arrived a few minutes later, and they all spent a half-hour or so trading neighbourhood gossip before Mama Aida announced it was time for her to go, hugging and kissing each of her boys in turn.

Ezra tried to shake her hand, but she insisted he give her a hug – something he gladly did, basking in the childhood memory of Sophie’s motherly embraces. “You look after my little one,” she said as she held him, quietly enough that only he could hear her. “He’s been needing someone to love him for a long time.”

Ezra was stunned. Before he could manage a single word, Mama Aida was out of the door.

“Well, that was something,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

“What was that?” Anton asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Ezra answered. “Mama Aida seems lovely. I can see how she reminds you of Gogo.”

“She is,” Anton said with a fond smile. “Heart like a taxi, that one; always room for one more[84].”

Ezra chuckled at the joke.

\--

The afternoon passed in a lazy sort of way, sitting around the fire and sharing bits of their respective life stories. Ezra learned quite a bit about his new friends in the process. He learned that Harry was a bricklayer and tiler by trade, and had built most of his house with his own two hands. He learned that Lunga originally came from Natal to look for a job on the mines, but discovered he got terribly claustrophobic underground, so he now worked in a stone quarry. He also heard the rather amusing story of how they got together.

“You met _where?_ ” Ezra asked incredulously.

“In prison,” Harry repeated. “Well, in the cells at Orlando police station,” he clarified. “I was chucked in there after some sort of political protest, I can’t even remember which one it was.”

“And I’d gotten picked up by the cops for being pissing drunk on a public street,” Lunga said.

“Literally,” Harry pointed out. “They probably wouldn’t have bothered with him, but this idiot decided to take a leak on a police van.”

“Hey, the Chiefs had just beaten the Pirates[85]; I was celebrating!” Lunga said. “But anyway, they chucked me in the cells with like ten other dudes. Wearing a Chiefs jersey, in Orlando, on the night of the Derby.”

“Let me translate that for you,” Anton said, apparently realising that Ezra could use some context. “You might as well be burning photos of Verwoerd and chanting ANC slogans at the National Party’s annual gala[86].”

“Okay, so you weren’t in a good position,” Ezra said.

“You could say that,” Harry said. “These guys were shooting him dirty looks, and he was too drunk to keep his mouth shut, talking about how the Chiefs were just the best. He was about to get his arse kicked.”

“Yeah, I realised that when this huge oke comes up to me, and I just remember thinking ‘oh fok, I’m gonna get it now.’ Next thing I know this ghost of a man is standing in front of me, arguing with this monster, telling him to back down. And when he wouldn’t, Harry socked him one. Moered him hard enough that the rest of them decided I wasn’t worth the bloodshed. Bloody lifesaver, he was.” During this last part, Lunga was gazing at Harry with a look of such open adoration, it was almost painful to watch.

“Well, now, I couldn’t let that ape break your pretty face, could I?” Harry said fondly, placing a gentle hand on Lunga’s cheek.

“Ugh, you guys are so soppy,” Anton said, rolling his eyes.

“And you’re so jealous,” Harry retorted.

“So anyway,” Lunga interrupted their friendly bickering. “I caught up with him when they eventually kicked us out. To say thanks, you know. And one thing sort of led to another.”

Ezra was fascinated by the dynamic between the three men. It was clear that they were all great friends, trading teasing insults and inside jokes the way only true friends do. But the way Harry and Lunga interacted was something else. They weren’t overly affectionate, at least not while they were outside the house, but their love for each other was patently obvious once you knew that that was what you were looking at. The gentle smiles, the soft looks, the casual touches – all of it made Ezra ache for something he hadn’t even known he wanted; something he hadn’t dared to think existed for people like him.

After they’d finished eating, he found himself alone in the kitchen with Lunga – he had insisted on helping with the dishes while Anton and Harry built up the coals of their braai to a proper bonfire again.

“You know,” Lunga said, thoughtfully. “I didn’t think I’d like you, what with all the... you know.” Ezra assumed he was talking about Anton’s history with his family. “But you seem a decent oke.”

“Thanks,” said Ezra, feeling rather embarrassed at that compliment coming out of the blue. “You’re pretty nice guys yourselves. I’m really glad to have met you.”

“I nearly flipped out the day we first met you, when I heard where you came from.” Lunga continued. “I was ready to pound you to a pulp.”

“I remember,” Ezra chuckled. “You looked terrifying. Although maybe it’s Harry I should have been scared of, hey?”

Lunga chuckled. “He’s got a hell of a punch on him, that’s for sure. Someone like him, you have to learn to stand up for yourself from a young age.”

“I hope you’ve decided not to beat me up now, though?” Ezra asked.

“Ja,” Lunga smiled at him. “For now.” He looked at Ezra for a few moments. “Mfezi really likes you, you know.”

Ezra nearly dropped the plate he was drying. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me,” Lunga said. “So as his self-appointed big brother, I need to ask you this: please don’t hurt him. He’s had enough of that from your kind.”

Ezra opened and shut his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Finally, he settled on, “I would never. And I assure you, you three are far more ‘my kind’ than my family ever were.”

“So we understand each other?” Lunga asked

“I believe we do,” Ezra replied.

“Good. Let’s go back outside.”

\--

“It’s getting dark; I should probably head home,” Ezra pointed out reluctantly. Damn the implacable passage of time.

“Nooo, stay,” Anton whined. “It’s way too early for you to go."

“You know I won’t be able to get a bus out much later than now, my dear,” Ezra answered.

“So sleep over,” Anton countered. “You can have my bed.” They were all a couple of brandy-and-Cokes in by this time, and Ezra reckoned that the alcohol must be affecting Anton’s inhibitions.

“Oh, my dear, I couldn’t possibly do that,” Ezra argued even though he very much wanted to do exactly that.

“Why not?” Harry weighed in. “It’s not like Mfezi’s never slept on a couch in his life. He’ll be fine.”

“Or you could share,” Lunga said, a mischievous glint in his eye. This earned him a slap from Anton.

“Seriously, though,” Anton said. “If you want to stay over, you’re welcome. Return the favour for letting me crash on your couch.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Ezra looked at Harry and Lunga.

“Our house is your house,” Harry answered expansively.

“Okay, then,” Ezra said with a happy little wriggle. “I guess we have ourselves a sleepover.”

### Notes

79 Dube is a section of Soweto, the enormous township south-west of Johannesburg proper. Dube was originally intended to be a “middle-class” native suburb (and those “” are very deliberate, because it was about on par with impoverished white neighbourhoods – for comparison, the stands were half to quarter the size of my current home’s stand, which is in turn half the size of the “typical” white middle class property I grew up on.) Black South Africans could lease land from the Council and build their own houses. There’s a fascinating article on the history of Dube here: <http://www.theheritageportal.co.za/article/dube-story>[return to text]

80 South African taxis have nothing whatsoever in common with the taxi’s you might encounter in Europe or America. Taxi’s were already operating in Soweto from the late 70’s, although my description of them is admittedly based more on the modern South African minibus taxi (they are a law unto themselves.)[return to text]

81 Ingelosi = angel in Zulu.[return to text]

82 Klipdrift is almost synonymous with brandy in South Africa, and “Klippies & Coke” is a favourite drink. Coca-Cola is generally referred to just as Coke (and yes, it does cause the occasional hilarious misunderstanding when one party is talking about cola and the other about cocaine).[return to text]

83 A spaza is a small shop, something between a tuckshop and a café.[return to text]

84 There is no known upper limit to the carrying capacity of a South African minibus taxi.[return to text]

85The Orlando is another ‘suburb’ of Soweto, bordering Dube. The Orlando Pirates and the Kaizer Chiefs are Soweto’s two biggest football clubs. They are rivals of the worst kind. Games between these two are known as a Soweto Derby. Spectators go armed. It can get really ugly. (Plot note: the first derby was played in 1970; I’ll leave it to your imagination to decide when between then and 1973 this took place).[return to text]

86 The National Party was the ruling party of the time, Verwoerd was essentially the architect of Apartheid, and the ANC was banned as a terrorist organization. Translation: you’re asking to have your ass kicked.[return to text]


	14. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the evening at Harry's place, and the day after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmm I've been dying to post this!!!! Hope y'all enjoy it!  
> Also I drew some art for this chapter because I needed some softness.

It was well past midnight, and Ezra still couldn’t sleep. It was probably partly because he was in a strange place, partly because of all the brandy and Coke he’d had during the afternoon (the soporific effect of the alcohol not being quite enough to counteract the sugar and caffeine), and partly because he wasn’t a good sleeper at the best of times. The house was quiet, save for an occasional muffled snore from the room next door, and the only light came from the full moon shining through the curtains.

He turned on his other side and buried his face in the pillow. The pillow that smelled like Anton – and that in itself was a thought. Why did he know what Anton smelled like? It’s not like they spent an awful lot of time in close physical proximity. And yet, the scent of the pillow was soothingly familiar. He breathed in deeply, chasing the comfort of it.

A minute later he flopped onto his back again. This was ridiculous. Usually when he couldn’t sleep, he would read until his eyes grew heavy, but he hadn’t thought to bring a book. A quick look around Anton’s room hadn’t provided him with any reading matter either.

But wait, there was a bookshelf in the living room, wasn’t there? He would have to be very quiet so as not to wake Anton, who was sleeping on the couch, but maybe he could find something to occupy his mind. Pleased with this plan, he tiptoed his way through the darkened house.

The moonlight coming through the window was enough to allow him to read the titles on the spines of the books, but there was nothing he recognised. He pulled out a few books in turn, reading the blurbs on the backs, trying to decide which one struck his fancy.

“Ezra?” came Anton’s sleepy voice from the direction of the couch behind him.

“Oh dear, did I wake you?” his voice sounded too loud in the quiet house.

“’s no problem,” Andon said, sitting up on the couch. “Why’re you awake? Not morning yet, is it?”

“I think it’s about one AM,” Ezra said. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come look for a book to read, that usually helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh.” Anton had was getting up and coming over to him, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“I’m afraid I don’t really know any of these. Can you recommend something?”

Anton regarded the shelf for a moment before reaching out and pulling out a paperback volume. “You might like this one,” he said, handing the book to Ezra.

_‘Cry, the beloved country[87],’ _Ezra read the title.

“It’s pretty sad, but very beautifully written” Anton said.

“Thank you, my dear,” Ezra said to him. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

“Erm...” Anton was looking hesitant. “Do you wanna sit here for a while? Since you’re up and all. I can make us some tea.”

“That would be lovely, my dear,” Ezra said, pleased with Anton’s suggestion. “A cup of rooibos sounds like just the thing.”

They made their way to the kitchen; stood side by side as they waited for the kettle to boil. Made the tea together as easily as if they’d been doing it forever, passing things back and forth with hardly a word needed. Each of them knew exactly how the other took his tea, and wasn’t that a thing?

Minutes later they were settled on the couch, each with a mug in hand. They drank their tea in comfortable silence, not needing to say anything, just enjoying each other’s nearness in the quiet of the night. There was something serenely otherworldly about these early hours of the morning, the silvery moonlight and the not-quite-silence of the sleeping city.

“Read to me for a bit?” Anton asked when Ezra put his empty mug down.

“I’d love to,” Ezra responded. “Is there a lamp? Don’t want to turn on the lights and wake everyone up.” The moonlight had been enough to make tea by, but Ezra doubted it would do for reading.

“I can get the bedside light from my room,” Anton suggested.

“Why don’t we just move there?” Ezra counteroffered. “I’m sure the bed will be more comfortable than the couch.” Only when his ears heard the words his mouth was saying did Ezra realise how suggestive it sounded. He felt his face heat, and was glad that the darkness would hide his blush. “Or not,” he quickly added. “Your choice.”

“Bed’s fine,” Anton said. “This couch is not gonna win any prizes for comfort.”

And that is how Ezra found himself sitting in Anton’s bed, pinned between the wall on one side and Anton lying on his back on the other, his shoulder pressed against Ezra’s thigh. It was just a three-quarter bed[88], definitely not designed to hold two grown men, so it was a bit of a squeeze. Not that Ezra was complaining, exactly, but the proximity might make it a bit more challenging to concentrate on his reading.

“ _There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo –_ “ he began reading – softly, so as not to disturb the other housemates (although Anton had assured him that they both slept like the dead).

“I **x** opo,” Anton corrected his pronunciation, making a strange clicking sound on the x[89].

“Ixopo,” Ezra tried again, causing Anton to chuckle at the sound he produced.

“Shush, you fiend, or I won’t read to you,” Ezra chided jokingly. Anton lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“ _There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it.._.”

Ezra looked down at Anton every so often, pleased to see the faint smile playing on his lips as he lay there with his eyes closed. After a while, he noticed his friend’s breathing deepen and his face grow slack, head lolling to one side.

“Are you still awake?” he enquired softly. When he got no answer, he settled down lower on the pillows and continued reading in silence until he could no longer keep his eyes open. At which point he reached over to place the book on the bedside table, flip off the lamp, and snuggle down under the blanket. He’d briefly debated with himself whether he should wake Anton up, but his friend looked so peaceful that he didn’t have the heart. Besides, he’d said the couch was uncomfortable.

So Ezra simply turned his back to Anton and closed his eyes, and was asleep before he knew it.

\--

He woke up before it was quite light outside, still lying on his side, facing the wall, but this time there was a warm weight pressed up against him from behind and what felt like an arm resting on his waist. With uncanny clarity for such an early hour, he realised that it was Anton, and he was still fast asleep judging by his deep, slow breathing and the occasional soft snore.

Well, now. That was awkward. Did he wake him up? Or just keep pretending to be asleep himself? That was certainly an appealing option – it meant Anton would keep holding him, even if he knew it was only because his friend was unaware of what he was doing. Oh, well, he decided with a quiet sigh; he would take what he could get. He closed his eyes again, drifting in and out of slumber, dreaming of a world where this was real.

The second awakening came courtesy of a smirking Lunga exclaiming, “Rise and shine, lovebirds!” from the bedroom doorway, entirely too cheerful for the time of morning. Ezra’s first instinct was to jump up and explain, but he was still held fast by Anton, who was burrowing his face into the space between Ezra’s shoulder blades with a muffled “’Tsek[90], Lu.”

About 2.6 seconds later, Anton seemed to realise what he was doing, because he suddenly jumped backwards – which, of course, meant than he fell off the bed, hitting the side-table head first.

“Fok! Eina!” he cursed.

Ezra giggled. “You really need to stop waking up like that, my dear.”

“Next time I’m lying by the wall,” Anton grumbled, rubbing his head.

“Next time, huh?” Lu had been joined by Harry, and both of them were grinning like loons. Anton threw a pillow at them from where he was still sitting on the floor.

“Sorry ‘bout that, angel,” he said as his cackling housemates made their way to the kitchen. “They have no manners.”

“No harm done, my dear,” Ezra reassured him. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to run his fingers across the spot that Anton was still rubbing.

“Nothing that will leave a mark,” Anton replied easily. Ezra couldn’t resist running his fingers through Anton’s hair, and Anton leaned into the touch like a cat.

“Hmmm,” he said sleepily, leaning his head against the bed. “’s nice.” Ezra chuckled softly as he continued raking his fingertips across Anton’s scalp.

“Sorry for clambering all over you,” Anton said. “Shouldn’t’ve done that without asking. Should’ve been sleeping on the couch.”

“It’s perfectly all right, my dear,” Ezra said. “Nice, actually.”

“Really?” Anton looked up at him.

“Really,” Ezra said, reluctantly removing his hand from Anton’s head – he couldn’t just sit here petting him all day, now, could he? – and got to his feet. “Better get out there before those two get all sorts of funny ideas,” he said, gesturing to the door with his head.

“Ohhh, I’m sure they have plenty of those already,” Anton chuckled.

Ezra offered him a hand to help him up, and was surprised when Anton didn’t let go immediately but instead pulled him into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re here, angel,” he murmured into his hair. “Didn’t realise how much I’d missed you.”

“Me too,” Ezra said, returning the squeeze.

After a few moments they disentangled themselves from that _entirely_ platonic embrace and set off for the kitchen.

\--

To Ezra’s relief, Harry and Lunga refrained from further teasing. This may have had something to do with the fact that he had walked into the kitchen to find Lunga with his tongue down Harry’s throat and his hands down Harry’s pants. An unspoken, mutual ceasefire was declared right there and then.

Nevertheless, when they said goodbye, Lunga asked him quietly, “So, did he kiss you yet?”

Ezra had blushed and stammered and not known quite what to say to that. Lunga had just chuckled in that knowing way of his. “Don’t worry, he will,” he’d said, patting Ezra on the shoulder in a brotherly sort of way. Ezra decided not to comment.

The taxi had deposited them at the bus stop, and they were waiting for the next bus into town.

“Do you have plans for the rest of the day?” Ezra asked carefully. He had that all-too-familiar feeling of not wanting to say goodbye.

“Not really,” Anton reply. “Hide from those two lunatics I live with, probably. I’m gonna get no end of grief for ending up in the same bed as you.”

“Yes, Lu does seem to get some perverse pleasure out of teasing you,” he chuckled. “I’m afraid we may have given him rather too much ammunition there.”

“Believe me, they would have teased regardless,” Anton said.

“You’re welcome to come hide from them at my place, of course,” Ezra said, carefully. He worried, sometimes, that he would come off as weird or overbearing, trying to keep Anton near him so much of the time.

The smile Anton gave him was enough to put his mind at ease. “That’d be great, if it won’t be a bother.”

“You’re never a bother, my dear,” Ezra answered. “I might be a bore, I have some work to finish up for varsity, but having you there is nothing but a pleasure.”

“Nah, you’re never a bore,” Anton retorted with a smile.

“Well, then,” Ezra said with a smile, “That’s settled.”

\--

Their Sunday afternoon passed much like the previous one had – an arrangement Ezra could see himself getting used to. This time, when he saw Anton settling in for a nap on the couch, he offered him his bed instead. Anton was only too happy to accept.

Ezra followed him to the room to make sure he was settled in okay, and nearly crashed into him when Anton came to an abrupt stop.

“You kept it,” he said, sounding surprised. Ezra followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at the rose, standing in its water glass on the bedside table.

“Of course I did,” Ezra said. “Isn’t that what one is supposed to do when a dashing young man gives one flowers?” he added teasingly.

“Oh, dashing, am I?” Anton teased back.

“You know you are, my dear,” Ezra said, not even bothering to hide the fondness in his voice anymore. “Very handsome indeed.”

“Ngk?” Anton squeaked out.

“Oh, you didn’t realise?” Ezra gave him a look of mock surprise. “There’s a mirror in the bathroom; go have a look.”

Anton flopped backwards onto the bed with a dramatic groan. “Ezraaaa. You can’t say things like that.”

“What?” Ezra asked, sitting down next to him. “I can’t give my best friend a sincere compliment?”

“No. I mean, yes, but...” Anton fell silent, seemed to be debating something with himself. “Nevermind,” he said at last, but the slight frown didn’t leave his brow.

Ezra carefully reached out a hand to touch Anton’s forearm, noticing how the contact made him jump a bit. “Does it really bother you if I compliment you?” he asked. “I won’t, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” Anton said. “It’s just... I’m afraid I’ll... misinterpret. Let myself read something into it that’s not there.”

“Like what?” Ezra asked. His heart was suddenly beating double time at the turn the conversation had taken, even though he had not-so-subtly been trying to steer it that way himself.

“Like... like thinking you like me more than you do,” Anton said quietly.

“You couldn’t possibly,” Ezra retorted, equally softly. “I’m afraid I like you rather an awful lot.”

Anton looked up at him, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

Ezra took a deep breath. He hoped he wasn’t misreading the situation; he was altogether inexperienced at this sort of thing, after all.

“I mean that, although you’re still the best friend I’ve ever had... I might like you... even more than that.”

When Anton didn’t answer, Ezra lay back on the bed next to him, so that they were lying side-by-side across the bed with their feet still on the floor. Ezra stared up at the ceiling; weighty admissions felt a little less embarrassing without eye contact.

“When you left,“ he began, and Anton groaned.

“I’m sorry to bring it up again,” Ezra continued. “But this is important. When you left... it broke my heart; there’s really no other way to put it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Anton interrupted him again, “You know I am.”

“I know,” Ezra said soothingly, “And I forgave you long ago, but that’s not the point. The point is, even then, all those years ago...”

Ezra found himself at a loss for words, so he scrambled blindly on the bed between them until he found Anton’s hand and clasped it in his own.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50037356006/in/dateposted-public/)

“Losing you hurt far more than losing a friend should,” Ezra said. He turned his head to the side only to see that Anton had turned his head too, and was looking right at him. He gave a weak smile. “So I guess I’ve liked you more than is strictly just friendly for a very long time. I just didn’t quite realise it until you weren’t there anymore.”

Anton shifted to lie on his side. “That long?” he asked gently.

Ezra nodded. “I thought it was in the past, you know; that I’d gotten over it. And then you crashed back into my life and it brought all those memories and feelings up again.”

“I know what you mean,” Anton said.

“You do?” Ezra asked.

“I’ve missed you every day,” Anton admitted. “Tried not to. But I did, I couldn’t help it. If I’m honest, I still can’t believe you’re here; that _I’m_ here, in your flat, holding your hand. Do you know how often I thought of holding you hand, or hugging you? And suddenly it’s happening. It feels like I’m gonna wake up any moment now and discover it was all just a dream.”

“Well, then I’m having the same one,” Ezra said. “And I vote we never wake up.”

“Hear, hear,” Anton agreed.

Ezra turned around so that he was lying on his side too, facing his best friend. “Anton,” he said, heart racing and nerves on edge. “I really don’t know how this works. I have no idea what I’m doing, but please tell me – am I alone in this? In wanting us to be more than friends?”

“Oh, angel,” Anton said, his face serious, “I can honestly say that I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was probably fourteen years old.”

Ezra was stunned by this admission, but not displeased; no, not at all. “Well, then,” he said; and after a moment’s consideration, he added, “But I’m warning you, I haven’t done this before. I really have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I’ll show you,” Anton said, “If you’ll let me?”

“Please,” was all Ezra could answer.

Anton brought one hand up to cup his cheek, gently tilting his face and drawing him closer. Ezra closed his eyes, letting himself be guided.

The first touch of Anton’s lips to his was breathtaking; soft and electrifying and altogether overwhelming. It wasn’t even much of a kiss, just a gentle press of lips, but to Ezra, it was everything he could have dreamed of.

Anton pulled away just a bit, a dopey sort of smile on his face. “That was long overdue,” he said happily.

“Hmm,” Ezra agreed, feeling just as dazed as Anton looked. “Again,” he said, and pulled his best friend, his first love, in for another kiss.

They had a lot of lost time to make up for.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50037356171/in/dateposted-public/)

### Notes

87 Cry, the beloved country (by Alan Paton) is an absolute classic of South African literature. It was banned by the Apartheid government (because it highlighted the gross inequalities and injustice in South Africa), which is why Ezra doesn’t know it. Definitely worth a read. I offer you a famous quote from the book: _“_ _Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.”_ [return to text]

88 I have no idea what a three-quarter mattress is called in other countries, or if it’s even a thing outside SA, but for reference, it’s 107cm (43-ish inches) wide – somewhere between a single and a double bed in size.[return to text]

89 In Zulu and Xhosa, certain letters (x, q and c) are not pronounced as in English, but rather as different types of clicking sounds. Here’s a video featuring Miriam Makeba (Mama Africa herself!) explaining the clicks and singing the iconic “click song”, Qongqothwane: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3m_TEq2E4cs> (listen at ~2:01 especially!) It’s astonishingly difficult to learn if you’re not raised with it. I can manage the q and c clicks, but I battle with the x.[return to text]

90 ‘Tsek is short for voetsek (pronounced ‘footsack’). Its an, um, emphatic way to say ‘go away’.[return to text]


	15. Home again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra goes back to the farm for the first time since he met up with Anton again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after all the sweetness from the last chapter, here’s some contrast in the form of the Fells...
> 
> CW: racism. Because duh.

Easter was on the first weekend of April, and, like every year, Ezra travelled back to the farm to celebrate it with his family. He didn’t particularly want to – especially since there was no way Anton could come with him – but Easter and Christmas were the two major holidays that his father insisted they spend together. And since his father was still paying for his studies, his flat and all his living expenses, he really wasn’t in a position to be difficult about it. He also carried a letter for Gogo Sophie from her long-lost grandson. She wouldn’t be able to read it, they both knew that, but Anton thought she would appreciate it nonetheless, and Ezra promised he would read it to her.

Michelle had been the one to collect him from the train station, and he had to continually remind himself to treat her normally; that he couldn’t let on that he knew what had happened with Anton. Fortunately, she didn’t seem too eager for his company either, and didn’t complain when he pulled out a book and spent most of the trip reading.

Still, it felt like the longest car ride of his life, and he sighed with relief when they finally pulled up to the farmhouse. His father and Gabriel were still off somewhere, thank goodness, so he was free to dump his bags and go off in search of Sophie. He found her, as usual, in the kitchen.

“Ezra, my little one!” she greeted him, and he immediately went to hug her, stooping a bit since he now towered far over her.

“I’m so glad to see you, Gogo,” he said, genuinely. “Are you well?”

“Can’t complain, my boy, can’t complain,” she answered him with a smile. “And you? You’re still too skinny, haven’t you found a nice girl to look after you yet?”

“No, not me,” Ezra answered with a chuckle – not gonna happen, my dear old Gogo, he wanted to say, but didn’t dare. “I have some exciting news, though, but just for you. Do you have a moment?”

“For you, omncane, always.” Sophie looked at him expectantly. “Should I make tea?”

“Actually,” Ezra said, hesitantly, “Can we maybe go somewhere more private? I need to tell you something, something wonderful, but it’s a secret and really only you can hear it.”

Sophie seemed to consider this for a moment, then turned and started heading outside. “Come to my room,” she said, “No-one will bother us there.”

As they made their way outside, Ezra noticed a young black man working in the gardens; it wasn’t anyone he’d seen before.

“Who’s that?” he asked Sophie, gesturing to the stranger.

“Oh, that’s Sizwe,” Sophie explained. “He started here maybe a month, two months ago. Jonas is getting too old for the yard work, the arthritis has him something terrible.”

Sophie called the man over and introduced them. Sizwe was a handsome young man probably not much older than Ezra, with dark brown skin and hair cropped close to his head. He was polite and well-spoken, if rather reserved about talking to one of the _kleinbase_ – understandable, if he was used to interacting with Gabriel. Ezra couldn’t help comparing him to the last young man that had worked in those gardens, and had to conclude that, handsome or not, he came off second best; nothing could match up to the twinkle in Anton’s golden eyes or the sheer joy of his smile every time he saw Ezra. Which reminded him.

“Let’s get on, Gogo,” he said. “It was good to meet you,” he greeted Sizwe politely as they left.

They got to Sophie’s room without much further ado. She motioned him inside and closed the door behind them.

“Okay, my boy,” she said, “Tell me, what’s going on?”

“You must remember, this is a very big secret, you can’t tell another soul.” Sophie looked wide-eyed at his serious tone. Ezra couldn’t stop a happy smile from breaking through.

“Gogo, guess who I ran into in Joburg?”

Sophie, of course, couldn’t begin to guess, not knowing that many people outside the farm. When he told her the truth, she squealed like a schoolgirl.

“Anton? _My_ Anton?” she asked, as if Ezra could somehow have been mistaken.

“Yes, Gogo, our Anton,” he confirmed with a smile. “He sent you something,” he added, handing her the envelope he had brought with him.

She opened it, pulling out two pieces of paper: one was handwritten on lined notebook paper – the letter Anton had written. The other was a photograph of Anton and Ezra that they had taken not two weeks ago, and decided to get three prints of: one for each of them and one for their Gogo. Sophie’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at it.

“It’s really him,” she whispered. “My boy is alive.”

“Alive and thriving, Gogo,” Ezra reassured her. “He’s doing so well, you wouldn’t believe. He has a good job, a nice place to stay, wonderful friends. But he misses you, Gogo; won’t stop talking about you. That’s why he sent you this.”

“Will you read it to me?” she asked, handing the letter to Ezra.

It was the first time Ezra had seen the letter. To his delight, Anton had never stopped drawing, and the letter was bordered with beautiful creeping vines and rosebuds.

“ _’My dearest Gogo,’_ ” he began, and didn’t stop until he had read all the way through. Anton explained what had happened all those years ago (as much as was possible without incriminating anyone), assured her that he was doing well, spoke of how he missed her and how he wished to see her again. It was a letter to melt any mother’s heart, and Sophie’s handkerchief was wet with tears by the time he was through.

“Thank you for this, my boy,” she said, her voice raw with emotion, as she took the letter and placed it carefully on her bedside table. “You have made an old woman’s heart very glad.”

Ezra offered her a hug and just held her for a long while, sharing in her joy and her tears.

\---

That, unfortunately, was the high point of Ezra’s visit. Thursday evening’s dinner was a stilted affair, as it had been since his mother was no longer around. Ezra didn’t really want to talk about his studies, knowing that no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be good enough in the eyes of his father or siblings. So instead, he asked polite questions about the farm affairs and their lives, and let them ramble on. He was surprised to learn that Gabriel had a serious girlfriend.

“You should get one too, Ezra,” Gabriel said. “You’re not _that_ unfortunate looking, and the girls like a clever guy.”

Yeah, hard pass on that, Ezra thought. He made some vague excuse about concentrating on his studies and not meeting many people, and redirected the conversation to Michelle’s new job as a secretary at one of the businesses in town. Knowing her, he thought, she would probably be running it in a couple of years’ time.

Friday was mostly spent in town, attending church, having lunch with the deacons and elders, and then visiting various of their acquaintances in and around town. Saturday was a normal working day on the farm, so Ezra was mostly left to his own devices. He spent a good part of the morning down at him and Anton’s old spot by the spruit, alternating between reading, reminiscing about old times, and writing sappy poetry while missing Anton so fiercely he could almost taste it. This time, however, there was a sweet edge to it, because tomorrow evening he would be home and Anton would be there waiting.

He was making his way home for lunch when he heard a giggling coming from behind the shed; it sounded like Michelle and another, deeper voice that he didn’t quite recognise. He moved forward quietly, curious to know what was happening.

Ah, that’s why the voice sounded vaguely familiar; it was Sizwe, the new gardener, talking with his sister. The sight of it made something angry flare up in his chest. She was clearly flirting with the man: even though Ezra was too far away to make out her words, her body language was clear as day. He wondered whether he should warn Sizwe; whether he might be in for the same fate as Anton. Then again, he seemed to be flirting right back, so perhaps they had the same goal in mind.

Ezra took a few steps back, and then took care to make enough noise to announce his approach before he came into view. He made his way to the house without so much as glance in their direction. He just did not have the energy to deal with that.

\---

Easter Sunday was the longest church service of his life. Fortunately, Ezra had convinced his father that he had exams to prepare for and needed to head back to Joburg immediately after church. He was already planning how to get to Harry’s place once he arrived in Joburg.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried: as he stepped off the train, there was Anton waiting for him, smile as wide as the Free State sky. It took immense willpower to refrain from doing what he wanted to do more than anything – running to Anton, throwing his arms around him, and kissing him silly. He settled for a fond “Hello, my dear,” as he handed Anton one of his bags. “Gogo sent that for you,” he said.

Anton was delighted to discover several bottles of Sophie’s home-made ginger beer and a container of buttermilk rusks. “You’re the best, angel,” Anton said when he finished examining the bag’s contents.

“Nah, Gogo’s the best,” he said. “I’m just the messenger.”

“Disagree,” Anton said. “You’re definitely the best.”

“Meet you back at mine?” Ezra suggested. “Then we can have a proper discussion on who, exactly, is the best here.”

“Deal,” Anton said with a grin that was positively wicked.

\--

Their reunion at Ezra’s flat was didn’t involve any further discussion of the matter at hand, their mouths having far better things to do than talk. If pressed, they would probably concede that the best was not either one or the other, but both of them, together like this.

As Ezra lay in bed that night, Anton spooned up against his back with one arm curled protectively around his waist, he realised something profound: the farm was no longer his home. Up until a few months ago, a part of his heart had remained anchored there, had always been ready to draw him back. But now, for the first time, he was ready to abandon it for good, if only it meant that he could be with Anton, falling asleep in his arms and waking up to him each morning. Home, for Ezra, was no longer a place, but a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that - a whole chapter without footnotes. That's a first!


	16. The legality or otherwise of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly our boys just talking about stuff. But also a certain.... person makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, but this chapter contains a lot of discussion of politics & law. It’s necessary to understand what was going on in the country at the time.
> 
> CW: some discussion of sex (nothing explicit) and internalised homophobia. Racist opinions and a slur. Blood (no-one is seriously hurt, though).

As the weeks went by, Ezra and Anton became fixtures in each other’s lives. They spent every weekend together, either at Ezra’s place or at Harry’s. Anton would come to Ezra’s place every Friday after work, and they would either spend the next two nights there or catch a bus and a taxi to Dube. Ezra was becoming increasingly comfortable in Anton’s world, and Anton in his.

One Sunday afternoon, as was their habit, Ezra was busy with varsity work while Anton lounged on the couch, listening to a soccer match on the radio.

Ezra frowned at the piece of legislation he was working through. “My dear,” he piped up, “Can I ask your opinion on something?”

“Sure, angel,” Anton said, pushing up off the couch and sauntering over.

“You’ve heard of this new constitution they want to bring in, right?[91]

Anton nodded. It had been in the news for months now, with everyone voicing their opinions.

“I haven’t read much about it, but I’m aware of it. Why?”

“I’m busy analysing it for class; we’re having a class debate later this week,” Ezra explained. “I thought it might be enlightening to get an opinion from the other side, as it were.”

“The other side, huh?” Anton grinned. “Hand it over, let me have a look.”

Anton spent a few minutes reading, a small frown on his face. After a while he turned back to Ezra. “Explain this bit to me, will you?” he asked, pointing to a section describing the proposed constitution of parliament.

Ezra thought it would be easiest to explain with a diagram, so he drew one on a sheet of paper, showing the different houses of parliament and how they relate to each other[92].

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50026184013/in/dateposted-public/)

“Hm,” Anton said, and it was a very pointed hm. “And why are they doing this? What exactly is the point?”

“Well, if you listen to the Nats[93], it’s to provide a representative elected government that supports the needs and welfare of all its people.”

“Right,” Anton said, sounding sceptical. “And what do you think?”

“Oh no,” Ezra answered. “You first. I don’t want to influence your opinions. Tell me what you think.”

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Anton said. “I think it’s bullshit.”

“You do?” Ezra asked. “Why?”

“Well, first off – where’s the blacks?” Anton said. “They make up the largest part of the population, and I don’t see them represented anywhere.”

“Well, technically, they’re not South African citizens; they’re considered citizens of the Bantustans[94], and governed by those laws and governments,” Ezra said.

“Oh, right,” said Anton sarcastically, “But they live _here_ in the townships, where this government runs their everyday lives, and they don’t even get a say in it. People like Harry and Lu and Mama Aida – even Gogo.”

“I quite see your point,” Ezra said. “It’s a raw deal for blacks. But what about the others – the Coloureds and Indians? At least they get some representation. That’s got to be better than nothing, right?” Ezra knew where this conversation was going, but he was playing devil’s advocate for the sake of it, curious to hear what arguments Anton came up with.

“You think so?” Anton said. “Do the maths, angel. Even if every single Coloured and Indian MP agree on an issue, they still couldn’t outvote the whites. And even if they somehow manage to sway enough of the whites to support their view, the president sill has veto power. No, this is all just a pantomime, a little act that they’re putting on for the international audience to say ‘hey, look at us, how nicely democratic and inclusive we are.’ But it’s all nonsense. That law could be printed on used toilet paper, and it still wouldn’t be worth the paper it was printed on.”

Ezra suppressed a giggle. Anton had gotten quite impassioned as he was talking, pacing around and gesturing wildly. His eyes were afire with the strength of his conviction, making them even more beautiful than usual. _Focus, Ezra,_ he admonished himself.

“You make a fair point, my dear,” he said. “And I’m inclined to agree with you. This new law doesn’t mean much in terms of real representation. But don’t you think it could be a stepping-stone to something better?”

“In an ideal world, maybe,” Anton said, “But not in this one. This thing is entirely drawn up to protect one group’s interests. Real change would require a leader who’s willing to get together and negotiate with _all_ his people, not just the ones he happens to agree with. Instead, this bill gives the president the powers of a dictator – not a hopeful sign, if you ask me.”

“Unless we are all free, none of us are? Is that the gist of it?” Ezra asked.

“Exactly,” Anton answered. “We may think the whites are the free ones, but they live in constant fear of the _swart gevaar [95]_. And look at you – you may be white, but as a gay man, you can never truly be yourself in this country, not as it is now.”

Ezra sighed. “You’re right, of course.”

“You know what I dream of, angel?” Anton asked

“Tell me, my dear,” Ezra answered.

“I dream of living in a country where we’re all equal before the law. Where none of us are disadvantaged by the colour of our skin, or what god we worship, or who we love. Where we could live together without hiding, you and me; go places together openly, hold hands and kiss and introduce each other as our boyfriend like any normal couple in love.”

“Hmm, that does sound wonderful,” Ezra agreed. “Although, law or no law, I’m afraid we’d never persuade my family to approve. Or probably even tolerate it. Can you imagine?” Ezra huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Is that a problem for you, angel?” Anton asked, warily.

“Oh, Lord, no,” Ezra answered immediately. “They can go to hell for all I care. I just meant that, legal or not, there will probably always be people who consider us to be wrong.”

“Well, fuck ‘em,” Anton said, causing Ezra to giggle. “We’re not wrong. How can love be wrong? Sometimes illegal and immoral are two entirely different things.”

“Well, technically,” Ezra said, thoughtfully, “we’re not even illegal. Yet. Apart from the fact that you’re constantly violating the pass laws.”

“Really?” Anton said, sounding surprised.

“Uh huh. The law only actually forbids ‘sodomy’ and ‘unnatural sex acts’ (Ezra made air quotes with his hands as he said these words, and Anton grimaced at the ugliness of them) between two men – not women, mind you, just men – and sex between whites and non-whites. Kissing doesn’t count. So, strictly speaking, nothing criminal has happened between us.[96]”

“Huh,” Anton said thoughtfully. “How about that.” He thought for a few moments more. “What does ‘unnatural sex acts’ mean, anyway?”

“The law doesn’t exactly spell it out,” Ezra said, “But given the case law I’ve seen, I’d say any activity where one man could give another man an orgasm.”

“So not just fucking, then,” Anton mused. “Blow jobs, hand jobs, the whole lot?”

Ezra could feel himself blush bright red. “Must you be so crude, my dear?” he scolded. “But yes, that’s the gist of it.”

Anton suddenly scooted up to his side and laid a kiss on his cheek. “And what about making love?” he asked softly.

Ezra turned his head for a kiss. “I’m afraid the law doesn’t know the difference,” he sighed.

“Pity,” Anton whispered, nuzzling into the soft skin below Ezra’s ear. Ezra shivered as goosebumps prickled all down one side of his body.

“Whaddaya say, angel?” Anton purred into his neck. “Wanna do something illegal?”

Ezra stiffened at the suggestion, and Anton must have noticed it, because he pulled back suddenly.

“Fok, sorry angel. I shouldn’t have...” Anton began.

“It’s quite alright, my love,” Ezra silenced him, taking his hand. “It’s just... I’m not quite there yet.”

The truth of it was that Ezra had been raised with very conservative beliefs. Sex had been a topic discussed in hushed tones, if at all. He was taught to believe that it was strictly something to be done by husband and wife, and had ended up with the vague impression that enjoying it even then was somewhat sinful. The fact that he had only ever felt sexual attraction to men had freaked him out even more, and he had pushed the topic to the back of his mind, refusing to even think of it. It had been a moderately successful strategy, if somewhat lonely, but since Anton had stumbled back into his life ignoring his own sexuality had become all but impossible. He felt like a teenager again, with Anton invading his every waking and sleeping moment at the most inopportune times, torturing Ezra with memories of his eyes, his hands, his lips...

Ezra wanted. Oh, how he wanted. And it terrified him.

Ezra mentally shook himself. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he said sadly.

“Hey, no, angel,” Anton said, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m not demanding anything from you; I’m just saying... I’m available. If and when you’re ready. No rush, no expectations, okay?”

Ezra felt relief wash through him. “Thank you, my love,” he said. “You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Nah,” Anton disagreed. “Just common decency. You deserve all the best of everything.”

“Thank you,” Ezra said. “Now please, darling, can I have a proper kiss?”

Anton complied with a smile, slotting their lips together. Ezra melted into the kiss, felt it soothe the worries that were still prickling in the back of his mind. They would be okay; he knew they would. This was the best thing in his life; how could it possibly be wrong?

\---

One Saturday afternoon a few weeks later, they were lounging around at Ezra’s flat. They had plans to go out with Ana and Newt that evening – the Mine Cine was showing The Wall, and Ana was very keen to see it. Anton had gotten off work about an hour ago and was napping on Ezra’s bed, resting up for what would no doubt be a late night. Ezra was taking the opportunity to catch up on some reading.

The knock on the door was unexpected, to say the least; the only people who ever visited Ezra were Anton (already there) and Ana (not due to arrive for several hours).

He opened the door to reveal an entirely unwelcome sight.

“Gabriel! This is a… surprise.” Would be a lie to call it a pleasant one, he added mentally.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Gabriel asked.

“Of course,” Ezra stepped aside to let his brother in. Damn, damn, damn; what was Gabriel doing here? His timing could hardly have been worse. Ezra sent up a silent prayer that Anton wouldn’t wake up; or if he did, that he would have the sense to stay hidden.

“What brings you here?” Ezra asked nervously.

“I had some business in Johannesburg,” Gabriel explained. “I thought I’d come see how my favourite little brother is doing!” He was wearing one of those strange, all-teeth-no-eyes smiles of his.

“Oh. Um. Okay. Do you want to sit?” he motioned to the couch. “I’ll make tea.”

“Just water for me. And I just need to use the toilet quickly.” Gabriel was already heading for the hallway.

“It’s on the left,” Ezra called out – dear Lord, please don’t let Gabriel go round looking for it through the wrong door!

He fiddled with the kettle while Gabriel was in the bathroom – he was nervous and needed a cup of tea, his brother be damned. He heard the toilet flush, heard the tap running as Gabriel presumably washed his hands. “So what brings you to Joburg?” he started as soon as he heard the door open, trying to lure Gabriel back to the living area of the flat before he got it into his head to go exploring.

Alas, Gabriel had no respect for other people’s privacy, and had taken the two steps across the hallway and into the bedroom.

“What the fuck?” came Gabriel’s voice. “Ezra, there’s some _boy_ [97] sleeping in your room.

“I’m well aware of that, Gabriel.” Ezra hoped that maybe he could still get Gabriel to back off before he learned who exactly it was. “Please be quiet and leave him in peace.”

“What, why?” Gabriel turned his attention back to the room. “Hey, you! Wake up!”

Ezra had made his way over to the bedroom door, so he had a front-row seat to the unfolding drama.

“Mmmnnnnggg. Is it time already?” Anton mumbled, trying to burrow down into the pillow.

“Time for what?” Gabriel demanded. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?”

Anton must have finally become aware of the incongruence of the through the fog of sleep, because he sat up and opened his eyes. And like Ezra had, Gabriel recognised those unusual eyes immediately.

 _“You!”_ he hissed, and that single syllable contained more venom than any snake the veld could serve up.

“Me, yes.” Anton said. “Hello Gabriel. Dreadful to see you.”

“I thought we got rid of you,” Gabriel hissed.

“We?” Ezra asked. “WE?! I thought it was Michelle’s doing?”

“Oh puh-lease, Ezra!” Gabriel said. “You don’t think your sister was actually interested in this piece of trash?”

“How dare you!” Ezra was almost shouting now.

“How dare I? How dare _I?_ ” Gabriel retorted. “You’re the one who keeps associating with this… this worthless kaffer. What the fuck is wrong with you, Ezra?”

Ezra was rapidly heading for a total temper meltdown, but Anton beat him to it.

“You take that back,” Anton hissed, advancing on Gabriel. “It’s one thing if you swear at me and call me names , I expect it from the likes of you. But you do _not_ talk to Ezra like that.”

“Oh yes?” Gabriel sneered. “And how do you think you’re gonna stop me?”

“Guys, please,” Ezra intervened. He didn’t like conflict at the best of times, and he _really_ didn’t want them going at each other in his flat. “Can we all just calm down?”

Anton sighed and settled back a bit. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, angel.”

“Angel?!” The nickname seemed to push Gabriel into a whole new level of rage.

“Oops,” Anton said under his breath.

“Ezra, would you care to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Gabriel demanded.

“No, actually, I don’t think I would,” Ezra answered, as calmly as he could. “You have no right to know what’s going on in my life anymore. I think you should go.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Gabriel said. “You’re kicking your own brother out for the sake of some bastard bit of gutter rubbish?”

“He was more of a brother to me than you ever were, Gabriel, and a better man that you could ever hope to be,” Ezra answered, voice somehow calm despite the overwhelming emotional turmoil. “I would pick him over you a thousand times, with not a single ounce of regret. Now please go.”

Gabriel stood silent, his hands clenched into fists and his jaw muscles working. “Fine,” he finally bit out.

The three of them made their way to the door.

Gabriel turned back just as he stepped outside the door. “I just want to warn you, Ezra; don’t think you and your little baboon here have heard the last of this.”

“I said. Get. Out.” Ezra hissed between clenched teeth.

“You heard him, Kleinbaas,” Anton added with a smirk, emphasizing the _‘klein [98]’_ and dipping his eyes down to Gabriel’s crotch as he said it.

“Why, you fucking...” Before Ezra knew what was happening, Gabriel hauled off and punched Anton in the face.

“Fok, eina, jou bliksem[99]!” Anton shouted, clasping his hands over his face.

“Out!” Ezra yelled, shoving his brother out of the door in an unexpected show of strength before shutting and locking it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving to kneel next to Anton.

Anton shifted his hand, and a drop of blood splashed onto the tiles. “Hmmm, no?” he said

Ezra guided him to the bathroom and shoved a fistful of tissues at him. Anton was sitting on the toilet lid, tissues clasped to his nose and his head tilted back. Ezra sank down on the floor next to him, adrenalin draining from his system and taking the last of his muscle strength with it. He started giggling at the sheer absurdity of what had just happened.

“Well, thanks a lot,” Anton’s muffled voice came from behind the wad of tissues. “Here I am, mortally wounded, and you think it’s a comedy show.”

Anton’s exaggeratedly offended tone of voice jut caused Ezra to laugh harder. “You,” he managed to gasp out between chuckles, “are such an idiot. Such a brilliant, perfect idiot. I love you so much.” He leaned his head against Anton’s knee, and Anton brought one hand down to ruffle his hair.

“I love you too, my angel,” he said tenderly. “Even if you laugh at me when I’m gravely injured.”

Ezra turned his head to place a kiss on Anton’s knee. “My idiot,” he murmured fondly.

“Only yours, angel.”

### Notes:

91 This constitution was indeed enacted into law, in the end. It is a masterpiece, although not of democracy. You can read the whole thing [here](https://www.gov.za/documents/constitution/republic-south-africa-constitution-act-110-1983) (see how far you can get before rolling your eyes), or the Wikipedia article [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_African_Constitution_of_1983). It stayed in effect until it was replaced by the interim constitution of 1993, which included, amongst other improvements, an actual bill of rights (something that the Progressive Federal Party campaigned for viciously in 1983, but ultimately in vain. At least we got there in the end. Just took us a decade or so.)[return to text]

92 I sort of copied this picture from an article in the Wits Student paper (which was also banned, by the way). You can find the original [here](http://www.cs.wits.ac.za/~scott/issues/WS-1983-35-09.pdf) (page 10-11). It’s a decent discussion of the basic shortcomings of the legislation. I like to think Ezra could have written that article.[return to text]

93 The Nats = the National Party. They were the ruling party at the time, and the ones responsible for Apartheid in the first place.[return to text]

94 Bantustans are a whole other story. Basically, blacks were forced to live in certain areas of the country which were supposedly independent and autonomous. If they worked outside the Bantustans, they were considered visitors, hence the passes; they were still counted as citizens of whatever Bantustan they had been assigned to. You can read more [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bantustan). The implication was that blacks had none of the basic rights afforded to SA citizens, such as the right to own property. These laws were repealed in 1985.[return to text]

95 “swart gevaar” means black danger – literally, the powers that be worked very hard to convince us all it would be an absolute disaster if the blacks took over and we would all be killed. (Spoiler: they took over 26 years ago. We’re still very much alive.)[return to text]

96 This is all true. But if you were publicly gay, chances were you would be watched.[return to text]

97 Here, again, it’s “boy” as in “black man I have no respect for”, not as in “male child”. Gabriel wouldn’t dignify him with the signifier “man”, or even “person”. Because he’s a fuckwit.[return to text]

98 Klein means small...[return to text]

99 Bliksem is sort of a generic insult, like arsehole or bastard. It can also mean to hit someone, or serve as a general exclamation of surprise. It’s a very versatile curse word.[return to text]


	17. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra goes home for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: racism, slurs. Because this is Ezra's family.

The year marched inexorably on, days becoming weeks becoming months. Ezra’s workload increased dramatically toward the end of the year, and if it weren’t for his friends keeping a wary eye on him, he may well have worked himself to a physical and emotional breakdown trying to overachieve at his final exams. Between Ana and Anton, they made sure that he at least ate and slept enough to maintain a basic level of functioning.

Everyone was relieved when the term was finally finished – their last as undergraduate students. To celebrate, Ana insisted they all go away to her family’s holiday home on the South Coast for a week – although, due to the difficulties of Anton getting leave from work, it had to be postponed until after Christmas. They agreed that they would all spend Christmas with their families, make their own ways down to the coast on the 26th, and drive back with Newton on New Year’s, in time to start work on the second. Ezra had secured a place with a large law firm in Parktown[100] for his articles[101], and he was excited to finally join the world of a practicing attorney.

But first, he had to get through Christmas with his family.

Ezra sighed, looking out the window of the train. It was the 15th – his father had insisted that he spend Geloftedag[102] with them, attending the church service in town with his family. Ezra didn’t particularly care for the holiday, based as it was on him and Anton’s ancestors slaughtering each other, but he had no handy excuse to talk himself out of it.

And so, here he was, barely an hour away from Joburg and already aching to go back. Eleven days. Eleven days that he had to spend with a family he had almost nothing in common with; eleven days until he could again see the people his heart considered his true family. He sighed again, and did what he always did: pulled out a book to try and occupy his mind.

\--

The first week or so on the farm went better than he’d expected. Gabriel’s girlfriend was visiting for a few days, so everyone was on their best behaviour, even his father. Michelle whispered to him that Gabriel was talking about proposing, and thank goodness, at least one of her brothers was making an effort to get her a sister. Ezra rolled his eyes and asked her when she was planning on getting a husband, which put a quick stop to that line of teasing. To his dismay, Michelle and the girlfriend, Uriel (and what sort of a name was that anyway?) got along like a house on fire, and seemed to be united in their adoration of Gabriel and their disdain for Ezra.

Ezra dealt with this as he always had: by escaping to the spruit with a book, or by hiding in the kitchen or the laundry room with Sophie, catching up on eight months’ worth of gossip over countless cups of tea and beskuit. Ezra had brought several more photos along this time, and delighted in introducing his Gogo to his friends. She, at least, would not cast any disapproving glances his way. He told her about Harry and Lunga and Mama Aida, about Ana and Newton, about Anton’s beautiful rose gardens. In turn, she shared gossip about life on the farm; among other things, he learned from her that Old Jonas had retired back to his family home in the Transkei, and Sizwe had taken over his job permanently. Which reminded him...

“Gogo,” he asked carefully. “Have you ever noticed that Michelle is particularly friendly with Sizwe?”

“That one? Nah,” Sophie answered. “I don’t think she’s ever even talked to him. She’s always been like that, you know, even with Jonas, and Anton back in the day. Thinks she’s too good for the likes of us.” Sophie sniffed disdainfully. “Even me, she only speaks to me if she wants something. Never says please or thank you, either.”

Ezra filed this information away for future consideration. Those two had certainly seemed friendly enough the last time he was here. He wondered if anything had changed, and made a mental note to keep his eyes open. Just in case. Maybe take some binoculars with him on his next outing to the spruit when the men of the house were away. He could always say he was going birdwatching.

\--

The peace lasted until two days before Christmas, when Gabriel, as usual, had to stir up some trouble.

“So, Ezra,” he asked at the dinner table. “Are you still hanging out with that _boy_?”

Ezra bristled, but tried to remain calm. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he said quietly.

“What boy is that?” Michelle asked, acting all innocent – Although Ezra had no doubt that Gabriel had already told her everything.

“That one we had working in the garden – what was his name? Andrew?” Gabriel said.

“It’s Anton, as you very well know,” Ezra said, “And I repeat, who I hang out with is none of your business.”

“Wait a minute,” their father interrupted. “Are you talking about that boy of Sophie’s? The one who disappeared?”

“The very same,” Gabriel said gleefully. “Do you know, father, when I visited Joburg that time, I found him in Ezra’s flat?”

“WHAT?!” his father erupted.

“Oh yes,” Gabriel continued smugly. “Sitting there as if he owned the place.”

“Care to explain, Ezra?” his father said through gritted teeth.

“It’s simple, really,” Ezra said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. “He’s my friend. In fact, he was the first and best friend I ever had. We lost touch for a while, but we ran into each other earlier this year, and we resumed our friendship. I don’t see how that’s so difficult to understand.”

“But, he’s a garden boy,” Ezra’s father said. “A kaffer.”

“He’s also kind, and clever, and excellent company,” Ezra retorted.

“Nevertheless,” his father said, “It’s not right. What was he doing in your flat anyway – in the flat that _I pay for_? I thought Hillbrow was a white area?”

Ezra suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “I invited him over. Just like he’s invited me over to visit his place in Soweto. It’s what friends do.”

Ezra’s father choked on his food at the mention of Soweto. “Tell me you’re joking!” he spluttered. “You can’t go into that hellhole of a township. I forbid it! All those darkies! What if something happened to you?”

“Oh my God!” Ezra finally burst out, the last of his patience snapping. “What is wrong with you people? Can’t you look past the colour of someone’s skin? Are you that narrow minded?” Ezra was furious – furious at his family, at the world he lived in, at the sheer stupidity of it all. “I’m quite old enough to choose my own friends, thank you, and if those friends happen to be black, then it’s none of your fucking business.” Ezra was shouting by the time he reached the end of the sentence, rising out of his seat as if buoyed by the force of his anger. He pushed his chair back and stomped off to his room, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of his outburst.

An hour or so later, there was a soft knock at his door. “Go away,” he grumbled.

“It’s me, omncane,” came Sophie’s soft voice. Ezra hurried to unlock the door.

“I heard all that shouting, my boy,” she said. “It was not clever, what you did.”

“I know, Gogo,” Ezra said, rubbing his eyes. He was regretting the rashness of his reaction, if not the message he had been trying to convey. “But I just couldn’t take it anymore. Anton, and Harry and Lu, they’re like family to me. Same as you are. But just because they’re not white, I’m supposed to treat them like, like animals? I can’t do that.”

“I know, my boy,” she said, giving him a hug. “But be clever about it, ne? Don’t shoot yourself in the foot.”

 _Oh, gogo, if you only knew the whole truth_ , he thought to himself as he returned the hug. “I will, Gogo,” he said.

“I left your plate in the microwave,” she said. “Don’t want you going hungry.”

“Thank you, Gogo,” Ezra said with a small smile. “You’re the best.”

“And you’re the best of your family, my boy,” she replied fondly.

\---

Breakfast the next morning was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“I’m sorry about my outburst last night,” Ezra said at last, when the silence became unbearable. “I shouldn’t have yelled. But I do not, and I will not, apologise for who I choose to be friends with. If you cannot accept that, then I kindly ask that we do not discuss it any further.”

“Of course we can’t accept it, Ezra!” Gabriel snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Enough, you two!” their father interjected. “There will be no more talk of this boy in my house. Understood? And Ezra, you keep your sordid friendships to yourself.”

Ezra swallowed his anger and simply nodded, finishing his breakfast and leaving the table as soon as was politely possible.

Michelle caught him later as he was on his way out. “So, Anton, huh?” she said.

“Hmm,” Ezra hummed noncommittally. He didn’t really want to discuss him with his sister.

“What did he tell you? About why he left?” she asked nervously. _Hah_ , thought Ezra, _Worried, are we?_

“Nothing you want me to repeat,” he answered her.

“What?!” she said, immediately flipping from worry to anger. “Tell me! Tell me, or I’ll-“

“Or you’ll what?” hissed Ezra, suddenly turning to her. He saw his sister’s eyes stretch wide at his sudden burst of temper. “You’ll do nothing, and shall I tell you why? Because if you make one bit of trouble for me or Anton, I’ll inform pa that you’re fucking around with Sizwe.”

Michelle went pale. “You... what?” she said, voice hoarse.

“Amazing what you can see when you’re out birdwatching in the veld,” he remarked casually. Which was partly true – he hadn’t exactly caught them in the act, but he’d seen enough that he knew what was going on, and the look on his sister’s face told him he’d hit his mark.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, but there was no fire in it. He knew he had her.

“That’s up to you, sister dear,” he said with a cold smile, turned on his heel, and walked away.

\---

Ezra had never been so grateful for the long Christmas morning church service, or the afternoon spent with their extended family at his aunt’s house in Bloemfontein. He wondered, like he did every Christmas, why they spent the holiday with this family that they never so much as spoke to for the remainder of the year. They might as well spend the day with strangers, but for once he didn’t mind. True, he spent a lot of time fielding questions about his life in Joburg (including, inevitably, queries about his love life, which would as often as not be followed by an offer to set him up on a date with someone); but at least it gave him a way to avoid his siblings, and he was all for that.

 _One more day,_ he told himself. Tomorrow morning at eight, he would board a train to Durban. Tomorrow night, he would fall asleep with Anton next to him. Oh, he missed him so much it ached.

He checked his watch. Twenty hours to go.

That evening he went to bed early, like a child on Christmas eve, hoping that it would make the morning arrive more quickly.

\---

The train ride down to Durban had felt endless, and the bus down to Port Edward even more so, but at last he arrived at the station. He was overjoyed to see Newton waiting with his little blue Anglia.

They chatted amicably on the ride to the house. Ana was already there, Newton explained, and she was getting everything ready for their arrival; they were expecting Anton later that afternoon.

“Here we are,” Newton said, turning into a driveway.

Ezra’s mouth fell open. The beach cottage, as Ana had called it, was nothing of the sort. It was, at the very least, a decently sized house, with an option on ‘mansion’, seated on an enormous property with unimpeded views of the ocean.

“Yeah,” Newton chuckled, seeing his face. “Took me that way too. You should see the inside. Turns out Ana’s family is loaded.”  
Ezra would never have guessed. Ana was one of the most down-to-earth people he’d even known; she certainly didn’t act like some spoiled little rich girl. He suspected they were in for a fantastic holiday.

They parked the car, grabbed a bag each, and made their way inside.

“Mhlophe!” boomed a familiar voice.

“Lu!” Ezra shrieked, dropping his bag and barrelling into the older man. “What are you doing here? Where’s Harry?”

“Your friend was kind enough to invite us,” Lunga said as he returned Ezra’s enthusiastic hug. “Harry’s around here somewhere. Oi, love!” he yelled, “Come say hello!” Harry’s head popped into view in the doorway to the adjacent room, smiling like a Halloween pumpkin, quickly followed by the rest of Harry, who immediately scooped Ezra up in a bear hug. Ana appeared from upstairs, and even more hugs and kisses were exchanged.

And then Ezra felt a familiar pair of hands on his hips, heard his favourite voice in the world speaking softly in his ear.

“Don’t I get a kiss?”

“Anton!” Ezra exclaimed in delight as he turned around to embrace him. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you! They told me you were coming later.”

Newton shrugged, looking slightly guilty but mostly pleased with himself. “Thought you might like the surprise,” he said.

“Oh, I do!” Ezra affirmed. “Best surprise ever!” And he gave Anton the kiss he’d asked for, and another one for good measure, and so on, until Lunga cleared his throat and smirked at them to “Get a room, guys.”

Which they did. One room, one bed, and no-one batted an eyelid. This was how life should be.

### Notes

100 Parktown is yet another suburb of Joburg, not terribly far from Hillbrow, but much more upmarket.[return to text]

101 After completing a law degree, one had to serve an internship of sorts (known as articles or clerkship) to gain practical experience under supervision. This could take two years, or up to five years if you did it while studying part-time. Thereafter you had to pass a written and oral exam before being allowed to practice as an attorney.[return to text]

102 Geloftedag, or the Day of the Vow, was a public holiday on 16 December commemorating the Boer victory over the Zulus in the Battle of Blood River. (More info [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Day_of_the_Vow), if you’re curious). It is no longer celebrated as such; instead, 16 December is now celebrated in South Africa as the Day of Reconciliation (a much better thing to celebrate, imo).[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, an update for anyone who was curious: I'm now writing chapter 22 and 23, and still far from the end, so plenty more to come. There will be smut, but clearly tagged, so fear not.
> 
> Also, can I get a WAHOO for UlsPi? They're practically a co-author for this story by now. Thanks for all the advice and listening to my ranting, friend 😘


	18. A seaside holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friends have a holiday at the seaside and celebrate New Years together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, like, 90% fluff. To make up for the Christmas drama in the previous chapter. Our boys deserve a bit of fun.
> 
> CW: mentioned OC death (no-one we know, it happened way in the past)

The beach house was every bit as wonderful as Newton had hinted. The house itself was spacious and comfortable, and luxuriously outfitted, and the view was magnificent. They were not even five minutes’ walk from the secluded little beach, which they mostly had to themselves, since most vacationers stayed in Port Edward about 10km away[103]. It wasn’t a great beach for swimming, being rather rocky, but it looked perfect for walking along the shore or just sitting on the rocks, staring at the waves. Ezra loved the openness of the ocean. It gave him the same sort of feeling he’d always had on the farm; a sense of being free and unconstrained, of having room for his soul to breathe.

But Ezra’s favourite feature of the house, by far, was the Jacuzzi. He’d never seen a private indoor Jacuzzi outside the movies, but there it was. He had never even been in a hot tub, but he did love to spend an inordinate amount of time reading in the bath[104], so he rather suspected he would enjoy it. He was keen to try it out immediately, and he wasn’t the only one; thus, not an hour after he had arrived they were all crammed in there, drinks in hand. They laughed and talked and soaked until hunger forced them out in search of dinner.

Once they’d eaten, and cleaned up, Ana excused herself, saying she was exhausted from the day’s travel, and made her way to bed along with Newton. Harry and Lu begged off not long after, and Ezra was finally alone with Anton.

First things first, he thought, and grabbed his boyfriend, kissing him as if he were a drowning man and Anton was oxygen. He pressed eleven long days’ worth of yearning into that kiss. Eventually, though, physiology reasserted itself, and he had to come up for some actual oxygen.

“Miss me?” Anton asked teasingly (and a little breathlessly).

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Ezra answered.

“Say, angel,” Anton said, “If you’re not too tired – how about me and you get back in that jacuzzi?”

“Oooh, yes,” Ezra said, delighted with this suggestion. “Let me go get back into my costume[105].”

Ezra got back to the Jacuzzi before Anton and sank gratefully into the warm water; his shorts were still wet from earlier, and uncomfortably cold. Moments later Anton arrived, bare-chested but with a towel wrapped around his waist. _God, he’s beautiful,_ Ezra thought, for what felt like the millionth time. It wasn’t like he’d never seen Anton without a shirt – there had been plenty of that, in all the nights they’d spent together. Still, he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it, and he allowed his eyes to linger appreciatively on Anton’s back.

He nearly swallowed his tongue the next moment when Anton shrugged off his towel, leaving him in nothing but a black speedo. The barely adequate scrap of spandex left extraordinarily little to the imagination, every line of his lean, muscled body on display. Ezra’s eyes lingered on his particularly shapely bottom. How the hell had he not noticed that before? He interrogated his recent memories – no, he was sure Anton had been wearing shorts earlier.

So, his boyfriend was trying to kill him.

Okay. _Keep breathing_.

He quickly shifted his gaze before Anton turned around and caught him staring, opting to look at his head instead. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile when Anton turned around, and couldn’t help but smile in return as he came over and clambered into the hot tub.

Ezra was sitting on the step, so Anton kneeled in the centre of the tub, facing him, sinking down until just his head was still above water. His hands were resting on Ezra’s thighs, gently massaging. The touch sent little shivers of pleasure racing up Ezra’s legs.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Anton said softly, a besotted smile on his face.

“And I you, my darling,” Ezra replied, reaching out to caress Anton’s cheek.

Without warning, Anton grabbed him and pulled him forward into a kiss. Ezra came to rest on his knees in front of Anton, an almost perfect mirror image of the other man’s position. Their arms tightened around each other as they pressed into the kiss, wanting to get closer, _closer_. Ezra let his mouth fall open, his tongue venturing out to taste, and Anton let out a groan that sank to the deepest part of Ezra’s belly and lay there burning like a coal.

Two sets of hands started wandering, running over lean muscle and pale, soft curves alike, and the sensation of wet skin on skin was unlike anything Ezra had ever felt. He pressed his palms to Anton’s back, pulling their bodies flush together, as if he could somehow get just a little bit closer, eliminate whatever molecule-wide space there still was between them. Belatedly, the rational side of his brain pointed out that he was getting rather, ahem, excited by all this (to put it mildly), and Anton was bound to notice. However, it took him less than a second to notice that Anton was in exactly the same situation as him, so he decided not to feel too guilty about it.

Ezra slid his hands down Anton’s back, enjoying the sensation of those muscles he’d been ogling earlier shifting against his palms. When he reached the waist of Anton’s swimsuit, he didn’t stop, but let his hands slip down over the satiny fabric to cup that gorgeous arse. Anton moaned into his mouth.

“You are breathtakingly beautiful, my love,” he murmured, and gave an experimental squeeze. Anton gasped at the unexpected pressure and melted into Ezra’s arms, his head falling back. Ezra couldn’t resist pressing an open-mouthed kiss to that perfect throat.

“Ssssssshit, angel,” Anton hissed, his eyes glazed. “If you carry on with that I’m gonna make a mess of Ana’s Jacuzzi. Illegally.”

Ezra laughed at the cheeky turn of phrase. “Sorry,” he said, easing his grip a bit. “You’re just so tempting, and I’ve missed you so much.”

“Yeah, me too,” Anton said, his eyes growing soft. “Never want to be away from you for so long again.” He brough a hand up to brush a few damp curls back from Ezra’s temple, then cupped his cheek and pulled him in for another kiss – tender, this time; more love than lust, the fires banked but still smouldering.

Anton moved back to sit on the step and pulled Ezra around to sit with his back to Anton’s chest, bracketed by his knees and wrapped in his arms. He hooked his chin over Ezra’s shoulder and nuzzled into his cheek, while his hands traced gentle circles on Ezra’s tummy, his sides, his chest. Ezra let his head sink back and rest against Anton’s shoulder, just enjoying the nearness.

They sat like that, talking and kissing and cuddling, until their eyes grew heavy and they decided to get out and move to bed. Ezra changed into his pyjamas in the bathroom, still not ready to cross the final barrier and be completely naked with the man he loved. He was getting there, he _was_ , but a lifetime of being taught to think of sexuality as sinful took some overcoming. Anton’s charms and his own raging hormones were rapidly wearing down those walls.

He smiled as he crawled into bed next to Anton. They exchanged a goodnight kiss before settling into their preferred position: Ezra on his side, with Anton curled up against his back, one long arm wrapped around his waist and a hand splayed on his stomach. He hummed happily as he felt a kiss being pressed to his shoulder. Oh, how he’d missed this. Yes, it was hot (being Natal in the middle of summer[106]), but there was no way they were going to sleep without touching in as many places as possible.

\---

They had less than a week at the sea, but they crammed every day full to the brim. Their mornings started early, when the sun rising over the Indian ocean chased them all out of their beds. Once they grabbed some coffee and rusks or toast, they all set off to the beach for an early morning swim. That is to say, the ones that were feeling crazy enough to brave the waves would swim, while the rest of them would sunbathe, or stand with their feet in the breakers. By the time the sun got properly hot, they were usually also starving, and would return to the house for a big brunch.

How they spent the rest of the day varied. Sometimes they went back to the beach, or headed into Port Edward if they needed to go shopping. Ana found a frisbee, which provided countless hours of entertainment – none of the guys would win any prizes for their sporting prowess, that was for sure, but they could deliver a clown routine to make any circus owner proud. The dead heat of the afternoon usually found them indoors, Ezra enjoying a book while Anton napped on the bed next to him, or on the couch with his head lying in Ezra’s lap. As the sun started to dip they would light a fire, or get busy in the kitchen. They braaied more often than not – it just seemed like the right thing to do on a seaside holiday – but to everyone’s delight Harry cooked oxtail stew with _dombolo_ [107] one evening. They all ended up overeating on that.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” Newton asked, halfway through his third helping.

Harry laughed. “My ma. She didn’t believe in all this women’s work nonsense, so she made sure me and my sister both knew our way around a kitchen and a toolbox. Good thing too, since I’ll never have a wife to cook for me,” he said with a wink.

“You make a pretty decent wife yourself,” Lu teased back good-naturedly.

“Wait, you have a sister?” Ezra asked in surprise. Why hadn’t anyone ever mentioned her?

“Had,” Harry said, his expression darkening. “She passed on[108] some time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said softly.

“Not your fault,” the older man answered gruffly. “I’m gonna get another beer,” he said, pushing up out of his chair and heading for the kitchen.

Ezra worried that he’d overstepped somehow, and looked at Anton in alarm. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nah, angel,” Anton reassured him. “He’ll be fine.”

And indeed, Harry returned very soon afterwards, his usual cheerful self.

But Ezra caught him later that night, after everyone else had already gone to sleep, sitting on the stoep[109] and nursing a beer as he stared out over the ocean.

“Everything okay?” Ezra asked. There was an indefinable air of sadness about the older man.

“Yeah, guess so,” Harry answered. “Just thinking, y’know? Memories.”

“Was it something I said?” Ezra asked carefully.

Harry sighed. “You’re way too perceptive for such a young kid, you know.”

“Um, sorry? I guess? I didn’t mean to upset you.” Ezra said. He didn’t like seeing his friend look so melancholy, and hated to think that he may have been the cause of it.

Harry huffed out a laugh. “You didn’t say anything wrong. Just... reminded me of Mbali[110].”

“Your sister?” Ezra asked, settling himself on the step next to Harry. When Harry nodded, he asked. “Do you want to tell me about her?”

The older man smiled; his eyes unfocusing as they looked back over several decades.

“She was my baby sister. Or half-sister, I suppose; we had different fathers. She was ten years younger than me, and an absolute princess. I loved her, would have beaten up every bully in the world for her. You could say I was a bit overprotective.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle.

“I’ll bet you were a wonderful older brother,” Ezra said.

“Kind of you to say,” Harry said, looking unaccountably sad. “Anyway, we were always close. When I was about 16, I got involved with the ANC, started talking a lot of politics at home. I was a very angry young man, angry at the government and the world and God himself. Anyway, I guess all my ranting rubbed off on my little sister, because she joined the SASM[111]. And, in a roundabout sort of way, that’s why she’s not here anymore.”

Harry paused, looked up at the sky. The stars were beautiful out here, far away from the smoke of the city.

“What happened?” Ezra asked quietly.

“You know about the protests in ‘76[112]?” Harry asked.

Ezra nodded. Then his eyes grew wide as he realised. “Oh, no. Was she-?”

Harry nodded. “She was marching that day. Almost every kid in Soweto was. She- she was one of the unlucky ones.”

“Oh, Harry,” Ezra said, his heart aching for his friend’s loss. “That’s terrible.”

The older man didn’t say anything, just nodded his agreement. It was a cruel world, where innocent youngsters could pay with their lives for the simple act of taking a stand against a system that was so clearly wrong to begin with. Ezra didn’t know what to say; he never did in moments like these; so they simply sat there, sharing the moment.

“Angel?” came Anton’s voice from inside.

“Be there in a minute, my dear,” Ezra answered, before turning back to Harry. “You okay?” he asked.

“Ja, I am,” he said with a small smile. “It’s been a long time. You go on in. I’ll lock up when I’m done here.”

Ezra made to get up, then hesitated for a moment before wrapping Harry in a hug. The older man seemed surprised, but pleased, and hugged him back. “Go on, now,” he said fondly, shooing Ezra back inside.

“Where did you get stuck?” Anton asked when he got back to the room. “I thought you were just going to fetch a glass of water? Started getting awfully lonely here.”

“Sorry, love,” Ezra said, giving him a peck on the forehead. “Got chatting to Harry. He told me a bit about his sister.”

“Oh.” Anton paused. “He okay?”

“Looks like it, yes. A bit sad, maybe, like you get when you think of loved ones you’ve lost. But he was smiling, so that’s good, I guess.”

Anton nodded. “Shame[113], he took it rough when she died. Went through a really dark patch. I hate to think what he would have become if he didn’t have Lu; he pulled Harry back from the brink, talked him through it.”

“Sounds like those two take turns saving each other,” Ezra mused.

“Ja,” Anton agreed. “They balance each other out really well. I mean, they both have their crazy moments, but they sort of take turns being the sane one.”

Ezra chuckled. That sounded exactly right. “Compatible craziness. Maybe that’s the secret to a perfect match.”

\--

31 December arrived all too quickly – the last day of the year, but also of their holiday. The group decided to skip the New Year’s Eve parties being held in the bigger surrounding towns; not least because it would be virtually impossible to find one where they would all be welcome as a group. Not that Ezra minded – parties had never really been his scene.

Instead, they opted to stay at home, lounging in the Jacuzzi and dancing to the music on Springbok Radio’s New Year show - the latter only after copious amounts of alcohol had been consumed, and even then it wasn’t what you’d call _good_ dancing. But they were having too much fun to care.

By the time midnight was drawing near, they were out on the lawn, lying on their backs in a zig-zag, each with their head resting on another’s tummy: Newton was lying on Ana, who was lying on Ezra, then Anton, Then Harry and finally Lu, who had the misfortune of laying his head on nothing but his own arm. They were stargazing, watching the bats swooping to catch the bugs attracted by the house’s lights, and talking about the year to come. They only realised that midnight had struck when fireworks lit up the sky to the north of them. Newton checked his watch and proclaimed, “That’s it! Welcome to 1984, everyone!”

They got up – not a simple manoeuvre when you’re interleaved like a half-shuffled deck of cards and tipsy to boot – and many hugs and kisses and well wishes were exchanged. Ezra couldn’t remember ever entering a new year so perfectly happy.

One by one they made their way to bed, starting with Newton (“Long drive tomorrow,”) and Ana, and soon followed by Harry and Lu. Ezra hooked his arm around Anton’s and leaned on his shoulder. “I guess we should also head to bed,” he said reluctantly, “but I don’t want this day to end.”

“I know what you mean,” Anton sighed. They stood there, looking at the dark ocean, neither actually making a move to go inside.

“Say, angel, wanna go for a walk on the beach?” Anton asked. “There’s a nice spot I could show you.”

It was a ridiculous idea, but it was an excuse to extend the evening a bit longer, so Ezra agreed. While Anton went to tell Harry where they were off to (safety first!), Ezra grabbed a half-full bottle of sparkling wine that was still left from their earlier festivities. Just in case they got thirsty on the way.

They picked their way down the rocky path to the beach, then set off to the left, walking just close enough to the water that the incoming breakers washed over their feet. Anton jumped in fright when a ghost crab scuttled across the sand in front of them, grabbing onto Ezra’s arm. Ezra couldn’t help but laugh, and after a token scowl, Anton also started giggling.

They walked side-by-side until they reached a bank of rocks that cut across the beach, enormous boulders the size of houses. They clambered around the smaller rocks on the ocean-facing side of the large boulders until they eventually came to a small hollow, worn into the rock by countless centuries of high tides. Now, at low tide, it formed a perfect spot to sit, shielded from the land behind but with a glorious view of the ocean, wavelets lapping at the rocks not a meter away.

They settled on the damp sand, wincing a bit at the cold. Anton looked at Ezra. “D’you think anyone can see us?” he asked.

“I highly doubt if anyone is out and about on this beach at this hour,” Ezra answered.

Anton smiled. “C’mon, then,” he said, holding out an arm. Ezra happily snuggled into his side, placing one had on Anton’s leg and giving it an affectionate squeeze.

“Bubbly?” he asked, passing over the bottle he’d been carrying. Anton took a long sip and passed it back to Ezra, who did the same.

“You know, Angel,” Anton said, looking out over the ocean. “This is the best damn New Years I’ve ever had.”

“Same,” said Ezra. “I mean, this year was full of so many wonderful things,” he accentuated this sentiment with a squeeze to Anton’s leg, “but something tells me next year will be even better.”

“That’s this year, now,” Anton said. “And it will if I have any say in it. Even though I might die from sheer happiness.”

Ezra looked at Anton, who was still staring out over the ocean, his features softened in a faint smile. He took in that beloved profile – the slightly bumpy curve of his nose, the soft amber of his eyes, the swell of his lips – _oh, those lips._ Joy swelled up in his heart, threatening to bubble over. This wonderful, beautiful man – his best friend, his first and only love – was here, and loved him back. It seemed too good to be true.

“I love you,” he said, unable to contain it a moment longer. Anton turned to look at him as he continued: “Sometimes I still can’t believe that I get to have this, to have _you._ ”

“Oh, angel,” Anton chuckled, “you’ve had me for ages, you just didn’t know it. Just had to step up claim me. And now that you did, well, you’re stuck with me until you chase me away.”

“In that case, I hope you like my company,” Ezra teased. “I think I might just keep you for ever.”

“Perfect,” Anton smiled, and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Ezra felt a spike of fear jolt through him. They were out in the open! What if someone saw them?! Fortunately, he remembered where he was before panic could take root. Laying a gentle finger on Anton’s lips, he leaned forward out of their little hollow in the rocks as far as he could, looking up and down the beach and up to the land behind them. Sure enough, there was nothing to be seen but the rocks surrounding them on three sides and the endless stretch of the ocean in front. They were well and truly alone.

Satisfied, he turned back to Anton, placed a hand on his cheek, and pulled him in for a proper kiss, open-mouthed and messy and glorious.

They stayed there until the first light of dawn tinted the horizon before staggering home, exhausted but happy, and slept all the way home, squeezed together in the back seat of Newton’s little blue car.

### Notes

103 The South Coast of Natal is one of my favourite places to holiday. Even today, there are lots of near-deserted little beaches. It is important in this context especially, since all the vacationers’ beaches at the time were designated for a specific race group (although there were also mixed-race beaches, at least in larger cities like Durban). I like to think this bit of beach was small enough that no-one bothered to assign a racial status to it, or to police who was using it.[return to text]

104 No, I don’t lie and read in the bath until I use up all the hot water, not me. Why would you think such a thing?[return to text]

105 In South Africa we call a swimsuit a costume. Apparently that’s not a thing in the rest of the world. So to be clear: Ezra is putting on a swimsuit, not some sort of fancy dress.[return to text]

106 I.e. hot and humid.[return to text]

107 Dombolo are dumplings, or stewed bread. I will eat myself sick on stew with dombolo, it’s comfort food to the extreme. Here’s a recipe if you want to try: <https://www.mykitchen.co.za/recipes/meat/umsila-wenkomo-with-dombolo-oxtail-stew-with-dumplings/> This recipe is for oxtail, but it works with any stew. The only thing I do differently is to place the dough balls on top of the stew to cook, not in a separate pot – then they end up absorbing the stew flavours and become soooooo yummy. Okay, now I’m craving.[return to text]

108 Passed on is a euphemism for died. Wasn’t sure if that’s local slang or not.[return to text]

109 A stoep is anything from a glorified doorstep to a poolside deck to a roofed veranda that needs only walls to be called a dining room. Built-in braais, bars and sofas are also common features of a well-appointed stoep. In the heat of summer, it is the preferred place to kuier.[return to text]

110 Mbali (short for Mbalenhle) means ‘beautiful flower’.[return to text]

[111 The South African Students Movement; a quasi-political organization consisting mainly of and advocating for (black) high school students. They organised the 1976 Soweto protest march. There’s some history of SASM [here](https://www.sahistory.org.za/article/south-african-students-movement-sasm) for the curious.[return to text]

112 The Soweto uprising started as a peaceful protest on 16 June 1976. Thousands of schoolchildren marched to Orlando Stadium to protest the introduction of mandatory Afrikaans-medium schooling. For whatever reason, the police set their dogs on the kids, and eventually started shooting. The official death toll was 176, although the real number is probably much higher. The Uprisings were, in a sense, the start of a time of intense political unrest, finally culminating in the fall of Apartheid some 15+ years later. Do yourself a favour and read up on it: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soweto_uprising>. Nowadays, 16 June is a public holiday – Youth Day.[return to text]

113 To be clear: in SA, “shame” is an expression of sympathy, not as in “shame on you.”[return to text]


	19. Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra starts working. It is an eye-opening experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discrimination based on race. Nothing new, right?

Ezra had been excited when he showed up for work on the second of January, ready to take on his new job with gusto. A month into the year, and Ezra wasn’t so sure anymore. The work itself wasn’t the problem, not really – as an article clerk he was given the most mind-numbingly boring tasks to do, but he’d expected that and he was sure it would get better with time, as he gained competence and experience. No, it was the people that were shaping up to be a problem.

On his first day in the office, he found out that his assigned principal[114], one Mr. Sanderson (Sandy to his friends, but certainly not to his subordinates), was an old school friend of his father’s. That should have been the first red flag, but Ezra did not make a habit of judging people by who they happened to be acquainted with. In this case, however, he could have made an exception. The man reminded him of his father far too much, but with added brashness and a smug sense of superiority that was all too reminiscent of Gabriel’s attitude.

It may have been okay if he were an outlier, but Ezra quickly discovered that the entire firm was a real old boys’ club; middle-aged, well-off white men who saw the world as their oyster and regarded everyone outside their own circles with disdain. And he was stuck here for two years, God help him, dependent on this man’s good report to be allowed to join the Law Society and practice independently. He hoped he would survive with his sanity intact.

A month or so into his new job, he thought he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Sanderson had called him into his office and asked him to do some research into case law for one of his long-time clients, a landlord that was having trouble evicting a tenant. Ezra had been glad for any assignment that broke up the monotony of his days , and was secretly thrilled to be trusted with a bit of real responsibility. That lasted until he started looking through the case file.

The client, as it turned out, owned a number of commercial properties in Braamfontein, and the current dispute revolved around one of these, a small shop that he had acquired a few months ago. The shop was currently occupied by a Mr. Meyer, who was just over one year into a five-year lease that had been signed with the previous owner. A quick look at the purchase contract confirmed that the continuation of said lease had been included in the conditions of sale. A phone call to the client’s bank informed Ezra that the rent payments had been made on time every month, and his contact at the municipality confirmed that the water and electricity payments were also up to date. Ezra was baffled – on what grounds was the client trying to evict this man?

He took this question to Sanderson. “He wants the man out,” his principal said gruffly. “It’s not your business to ask why. Your job is to find a way to make it happen.”

“Yes, but,” Ezra protested, “I need some sort of legal leg to stand on. There’s a contract in place, signed by both parties; it can’t be annulled without a good reason.”

“Then find a reason!” Sanderson snapped. “Go visit the place, dig up dirt on the tenant, find some old precedent in case law, I don’t care. Just do your job and stop bothering me with trivialities.”

Ezra left his office with a heavy heart. The light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be an oncoming train.  
  


In the end, Ezra decided to take his boss’s advice and pay the shop a visit, so after lunch he set off for Yeoville. He found the place easily enough; a tailor’s shop nestled between a laundromat on one side and a café on the other. The shop was empty when he entered, but he could hear the clatter of a sewing machine in the back, where the workshop presumably was. He rang the bell that was standing on the counter. The sound of the machine died away and within moments a coloured man appeared in the doorway.

“Middag, baas,” the man said with a smile. “Waarmee kan ek help[115]?”

“I’m looking for Mr. Meyer,” Ezra said. He understood Afrikaans well enough, but avoided speaking it whenever he could; he was convinced that his accent did absolutely terrible things to the language.

“That’s me*,” the man answered, switching over to English effortlessly. “What can I do for you?”

Ezra wasn’t quite sure, truth be told. ‘Pack up and leave’ didn’t really seem like a reasonable answer, so instead he said, “May I perhaps speak to you for a moment? It is a rather delicate matter, I’m afraid.”

“Of course,” the man replied, a look of concern crossing his features. “Would you like to come to the back?” He opened a partition in the counter and gestured for Ezra to come through. Ezra followed the man through to the back.

“Evelyn, my love,” he said to a woman who was busy sewing a button on a shirt, “Would you make us some tea, please?” The woman looked at Ezra with suspicion, but nodded wordlessly and set off through yet another door.

Meyer pulled up a chair. “Please, sit, Mr...?”

“Fell,” Ezra said. “Ezra Fell.”

“And why are you visiting my shop today, Mr. Fell?”

Ooh, Ezra didn’t like being called Mr. Fell – that was his father’s name. But he supposed as an attorney he had to be professional.

“I’m from Sanderson & De Vries attorneys,” Ezra started, and noticed a frown crease the man’s forehead immediately. “Your landlord, Mr. Botha, is one of our clients.”

Meyer swore under his breath. “Is that how he’s going to play it, then?” he said, almost to himself. To Ezra, he said, “I suppose he wants you to kick me out, eh?”

“Well, yes,” Ezra answered, surprised at the man’s candour. “But I’m new at the firm; I was only assigned to the case this morning, so I’m still trying to find my feet. I thought it only fair to hear both sides of the story.”

Meyer huffed a sarcastic laugh. “You’re clearly new, if you think fairness has anything to do with it. Or maybe you’ve come here to find some excuse for him to get rid of me, hey?” Ezra felt embarrassed at hearing his instructions from Sanderson repeated in this way, and didn’t know how to answer.

At that moment, the woman – Evelyn, Ezra’s memory supplied – reappeared with a tray holding three mugs of tea, a sugar pot, and a jug of milk.

“Guess what?” Meyer said to her. “This is Botha’s lawyer.”

“Ag nee man,” she replied. “I told you, that man won’t let it go before he puts us on the street.”

“Come, now, my love,” Meyer said to her, “I’m sure Mr. Fell here can explain what’s going on.” He said this last with a quizzical look at Ezra.

“Well, like I said, I was only given this case this morning,” Ezra said, feeling rather flustered and out of his depth. “You’re right in saying that Mr. Botha wants us to evict you.” He could swear the woman’s dark skin grew a shade paler at hearing these words. “The thing is,” he added hurriedly, “I’ve been through all the paperwork and everything, and I can’t for the life of me figure out on what grounds he wants you out. I was hoping you could shed some light on it. Is there some dispute between the two of you that I should know about?”

Meyer and the woman – his wife? – exchanged a glance, and Ezra suspected there was a whole unspoken conversation there, debating whether he could be trusted. After several moments, the man finally spoke again. “I’m not sure what you were hoping to learn from me, Mr. Fell, but I’ll tell you my side of it. I’ve been in this shop a little over ten years now, and you can ask my previous landlord, I’ve been nothing but a model tenant. I’ve never missed a payment, I’ve made improvements to the place with my own two hands and on my own dime. I’ve never had a moment’s trouble until this new man bought the building. You can call the previous owner and ask him, if you don’t believe me. But this new guy, Botha, he wants me out. I have my suspicions why, but I very much doubt you’ll sympathise, so I don’t know if I should tell you.”

Meyer leaned back in his chair, looking Ezra up and down critically. The man had disconcertingly intelligent eyes, Ezra thought.

“Mr. Meyer, can I be frank with you?” Ezra said, deciding that honesty might be his best policy. “You have no reason to trust me, I’m sure, but I can tell you this: anyone else from the firm would be worse. My boss, the one who sent me, he just wants to get you out and keep his client happy. I’m probably the only person in that firm who’s interested in hearing your side of the story. I can’t promise that it will help you, but at the very least I can try to get him to honour your lease contract until it expires.”

Another pause, and Meyer seemed to make up his mind. “Okay, I’ll tell you,” he said. “First time I met Botha was about two months ago, after the sale of the building had gone through. Would you like to know what he said to me that day?”

“Yes?” Ezra said.

“I won’t repeat his exact words in the presence of a lady, but the long and short of it was that if he had known ‘Mr. Adam Meyer’ was not a white man, he’d never have agreed to let me stay on[116].”

Ezra felt rage overtake him in a flash. “He did not!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“You don’t believe me?” Meyer asked.

“Sorry, no, I do. Sadly, I can absolutely believe it. I just can’t fathom that people can be so... so... barbaric!”

Meyer regarded him with surprise. “That’s not the reaction I was expecting,” he said.

Ezra rubbed a hand across his face. “Mr. Meyer, believe me when I tell you most sincerely that the colour of your skin doesn’t come into it for me, and I don’t see why it should. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for my bosses.” He sighed. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Not really. Oh, wait: just after we met, Botha pushed the rent up by a ridiculous amount. I suppose he hoped I’d find somewhere else to go. And I tried, but it’s difficult to find shops to rent in Joburg. Believe me, if I could be rid of him I would. But this place is all I have now. We really would be on the streets if he kicked us out.”

“Wait, do you mean you live in here too?” Ezra asked.

“Yes,” Meyer answered. “We couldn’t afford to rent both a flat and the shop, and since we need the income from the shop, we had to let the flat go.”

Ezra looked around the little workshop they were sitting in. Sure enough, in one corner, half-concealed by a curtain, he could glimpse a neatly made bed.

“Mr. Fell, you can’t let them put us out.” To Ezra’s surprise, this was Evelyn speaking. “We... we have a little one on the way,” she continued, laying a hand protectively on her tummy.

Ezra felt his heart sink even further. A baby, too?

“I’ll do what I can,” he promised them, meaning every word. “I’ll speak to them, see if I can get Botha to change his mind. It’s not right, what he’s doing.”

“Yes, well. Since when does right come into it?” Meyer said in a defeated tone. Ezra wished he could disagree without lying.

\--

The next morning, Ezra took the file back to Sanderson’s office. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “but I can find no legal reason to evict Mr. Meyer.”

“Then what the hell do I pay you for, eh?” Sanderson said angrily, but he took the file back. “Guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

“Sir,” Ezra said tentatively. “May I speak honestly?”

His principal made a gruff noise of assent. Ezra took a deep breath. “Sir, I fully believe our client is in the wrong here. His reasons for evicting the tenant are based on nothing but a personal prejudice.”

“And?” Sanderson said, impatient.

“Well, sir, isn’t our job to uphold the law? To strive for justice?” Ezra asked.

“No, Fell, our job is to serve our client and earn our fee. _Your_ job is to do what I tell you.”

Ezra couldn’t believe his ears. “Even if that means putting an innocent family out on the street? Kicking a pregnant woman out of the only home she has? Surely that can’t be the right thing to do?”

Ezra knew he had said too much when he saw the gleam in Sanderson’s eyes. “Wait, did you say -are they _living_ in the place?” Ezra didn’t say anything, but it seemed he didn’t need to. “Oh, that’s perfect. Their rental agreement most definitely doesn’t allow that. We have them on a breach of contract!”

“But, but...” Ezra still wanted to protest, but Sanderson was herding him out of the office none too gently.

“Good job, Fell,” he said. “We’ll make a lawyer out of you yet.” And then he closed the door in Ezra’s face.

Ezra sighed. Fuck his life.

He went back to his desk, feeling disillusioned at the turn of events. He wished he could talk to Anton right now, but alas, he had no way to contact him at work short of going to Emmarentia in person. He seriously considered it for a few minutes, but then decided he was probably on thin enough ice with his boss as it was.

He called Ana instead. She had also finished her BA in Social Work the year before, and was now working for the Department of Welfare. Ana seemed pleased to hear from him, and declared that he sounded down in the dumps and they should meet up for lunch. Ezra hadn’t realised until that moment how much he missed his regular lunch dates with Ana, so they agreed to meet at a small café down the street from Ezra’s office.

Ezra kept himself busy until noon, when he made his way to the café to meet with Ana. He told her the whole sorry story, glad to have a sympathetic ear to unload on. As he’d expected, she was disgusted with his boss’s attitude, and rather upset at the way things had turned out for poor Mr. Meyer.

“I feel so guilty,” he admitted. “If I’d just kept my mouth shut, they might have still had a chance.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Ez,” Ana said, laying a kind hand on his. “You were just trying to help. It’s not your fault your boss is a heartless wanker.”

“I know,” Ezra sighed. “I just wish I could help them somehow. Maybe I should at least go by there and apologise. Warn them what’s coming, perhaps.”

“That might be a good idea,” Ana agreed. “In fact, give them my card while you’re there.” She handed over said card. “If they really do end up homeless, I should at least be able to hook them up with an organisation who can help them.”

“Thanks, An,” Ezra said. “You’re a treasure.” He tucked the card into his wallet, resolving to visit the Meyers on Saturday morning. He would do what he could to fix his mess.

### Notes

114 The principal is the attorney overseeing an article clerk who takes responsibility for training and supervising them. The principal also has to confirm that a candidate has fulfilled the requirements of their clerkship to be admitted to the roll. The quality of your principal directly determines how good or awful your clerkship experience is. I’m afraid Ezra’s is... well, modeled on Sandalphon. That should tell you everything you need to know.[return to text]

115 “Middag” = afternoon (as in a greeting) “Waarmee kan ek help?” = what can I help you with?[return to text]

116 Meyer is a fairly common white surname in SA, but there are also coloured Meyer families (I happen to know one. Lovely people).[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what - I finished writing this!! it tops out at 27 chapters, so there's still quite a bit to go.


	20. One year later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one year after Ezra and Anton reunited, and Ezra makes a decision...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I go back and look at the calendars for 1983/4 for this chapter? Hmmmm maybe...

“Bye, angel,” Anton greeted Ezra with a kiss before heading out to work. Since it was a Saturday, Ezra was still in bed, sipping the cup of tea Anton had made him. He smiled contentedly. Somehow, tea always tasted better when Anton made it; he claimed it was because he made it with love.

Eventually, his desire for breakfast grew larger than his desire to stay in bed, and he made his way to the kitchen, flipping on the radio _en route_.

“... and that’s your weather forecast for today, 4 February 1984. Next up, sports news!” the announcer said. Ezra paused. Why did that date seem vaguely important? Was he forgetting an appointment? He was planning to go by Mr. Meyer’s today, but that wasn’t it. He dug his diary out of his briefcase and opened it at today’s date – nope, nothing. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something important happened early in February. Perhaps a birthday? Or an anniversary of some sort?

A sudden suspicion formed in his mind, and he went looking for his diary from last year. Luckily, Ezra had an almost pathological inability to throw out a book, even a used diary, so he found it soon enough. He flipped to 4 February, a Friday last year.

_‘Test: family law,”_ he read. Hmm, not a lot of help. But two days later, on Sunday, there was another note: _‘Zoo Lake, Anton, 11:00.’_

Ah, yes. That’s what it was.

He almost couldn’t believe it had already been a year since Anton stumbled back into his life. Or maybe he couldn’t believe it had been only a year. It somehow felt as if he’d been there forever, as if the years between separating and reuniting had been nothing but a bad dream. Either way, the last twelve months had been some of the happiest he could remember.

Ezra decided that they would have to do something special to celebrate. But first, he had an errand to run.

\---

By mid-morning, Ezra was making his way back to Yeoville. Meyer’s shop was busier than it had been the last time he was there, but the moment the man laid eyes on him, his face turned to stone. “Eve,” he called into the backroom, “Come help the customers, won’t you? I need to have a word with Mr. Fell.” Without further ado he opened up the hatch in the counter and gestured Ezra through. They were barely through the back room door when Meyer turned on him. “How could you?” he spat. “You said you wanted to help, but you just gave Botha the ammo he needed to kick us out! Serves me right for trusting you. I suppose you’re here to serve the formal eviction notice?”

“What? No!” Ezra protested. “No, I’m not here for work. I just... well, I wanted to apologise for the way things turned out. And I wanted to warn you, but it sounds like you’ve heard already.”

“Oh, like you didn’t know?” Meyer said angrily. “Bet you were all having a good laugh at fooling the stupid boy.”

“No! Never!” Ezra said “Listen to me, please. I truly am dreadfully sorry about what happened. I was honestly just trying to help, and it backfired on me. I never meant for this to happen!”

“A little late for that now,” Meyer huffed as he sat down in a chair. “But either way, you might as well leave. There’s nothing more to say here.”

“Actually, there might be,” Ezra said, pulling out his wallet and retrieving Ana’s card. “This lady is a close friend of mine. I told her about your predicament – well, mostly I was venting at her about what a miserable piece of shit my boss is – and she said she may be able to help you if worse comes to worse. Please, call her if you need to,” he said, pressing the card into Meyer’s hand. “I trust her with my life. If anyone can help you, she will.”

Meyer looked up at him, incredulity written on his face. “Why would you do that?” he asked.

Ezra shrugged. “I feel partly responsible for your predicament.”

“Yes, but what do you care?” Meyer persisted. “No offence, but your kind usually doesn’t.”

Ugh, that phrase again. _Your kind._ Ezra hated the thought that he might be considered akin to Sanderson and his lot. He thought for a moment, then pulled out his wallet again. “Can I show you something?” he said, pulling out the photo of him and Anton that he carried with him everywhere – the same photo Gogo had a copy of – and passing it over. Meyer regarded it quizzically. “That man is the best friend I’ve ever had. He had an awfully hard time because my relatives treated him like garbage, based purely on the colour of his skin. And yet, him and his brothers are more of a family to me than my own siblings ever were. So when I see the opportunity to tip the balance of the world the other way even a little bit, you better believe I’ll do it.”

\---

Ezra arrived back at his flat mid-afternoon, exhausted by the morning’s activity but satisfied with his day’s work. Him and Meyer had parted on friendly terms, in the end, and it was reassuring to know that the man could get in touch with Ana or himself if need be. He kicked back on his bed, thinking he would just rest his eyes for a few minutes before having some lunch.

He awoke to the feeling of fingers ruffling through his hair. “You really should lock your door, angel,” Anton said from somewhere above him. Ezra could hear the smile in his voice.

Not even bothering to open his eyes, he took hold of Anton’s wrist and pulled him down on the bed next to him.

“H’lo dear,” he said, still half asleep, winding his arms around Anton and burrowing into his chest. “Wassa time?”

“Almost 5,” Anton chuckled. “How long have you been out?”

“Hmm. Coupla hours?” Ezra was getting comfortable again, in serious danger of drifting back to sleep.

“Silly angel,” Anton said, running gentle fingers through Ezra’s hair. “Do you want some tea?”

“Yes please,” Ezra said, reluctantly loosening his grip on Anton. “Kiss first.”

Anton placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, then slipped out to go make tea. Ezra sat up on the bed, trying to get his bearings amidst that peculiar type of disorientation that follows waking up from an unintended nap.

Anton returned bearing the life-giving elixir, and disappeared again to go shower. Ten minutes and a cup of tea later, Ezra was feeling more or less himself again. He smiled at Anton when he came into the room, dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts, wet hair sticking up in every direction. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” Anton grinned, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Feeling better now?”

“Much better, thank you,” Ezra said. “And you?”

“Like a million bucks,” Anton said, and leaned over to give him a proper hello kiss.

“Do you know what today is, my love?” Ezra asked after a while, pulling away just the tiniest bit.

“Hmm, Saturday?” Anton guessed.

“No, silly,” Ezra answered. “I’ll give you a hint: it’s the anniversary of a very important collision.”

“Aaah,” said Anton, apparently catching on. “Did this collision perhaps take place outside Hillbrow Records?”

“It did indeed,” Ezra answered.

“And did it involve one sorry soul of a gardener and one angel who had somehow ended up on earth?” Anton teased.

“Oh no, that’s not how I remember it at all,” Ezra teased back. “I’d say it involved one rather lonely law student and a devilishly handsome charmer sent to capture his heart.”

“Silly angel,” Anton murmured, pressing a small kiss to the tip of Ezra’s nose. “It’s you who captured my heart.”

“It was payback for you stealing mine,” Ezra said, tilting his head back for a proper kiss.

A year – well, eleven months, give or take – and the effect Anton’s kisses had on him had not become any less powerful. Ezra breathed out a sigh of pleasure, letting himself get lost in it, the press and slide of lips and tongue. _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ he tried to communicate. _I need you, I want you, only you, only ever you._

Ezra’s hand had been resting on Anton’s knee, and now he gently ran it up the outside of his thigh, over the angle of his hip, finally coming to rest on his still-naked side. Anton gave a little moan of pleasure at the contact and brought his free hand up to cradle Ezra’s face.

The feeling of bare skin under his fingertips, coupled with the rapidly deepening kiss, made something hot unfurl in Ezra’s stomach. He let his fingertips drift back and forth across Anton’s stomach, feeling the muscles twitch as Anton’s breath hitched. Slowly, he let his hand drift upwards, sliding along the edge of his ribs, up his sternum, along his collarbone and back down the slight curve of his muscled chest. Anton shivered under the touch, making a happy little sound in the back of his throat. Ezra’s roaming hand tugged at Anton’s hip until he got the message and shifted to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs. Their mouths didn’t lose contact for a moment, and now that they were facing each other, Ezra pulled Anton’s body flush against his own. His hands were still roaming across Anton’s back and sides, eager to touch every bit of skin he could. Anton’s hands, meanwhile, had found the hem of his shirt and were working their way underneath, eagerly seeking skin-on-skin contact but getting trapped by the unyielding fabric. _That’s quite enough of that,_ Ezra decided, and leaned back to undo a couple of buttons and pull the shirt off over his head. He felt a little self-conscious; even now, he rarely walked around without a shirt when Anton was around. For his part, Anton seemed extremely pleased with this development, and immediately splayed his hands across Ezra’s chest.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous,” Anton breathed, before diving back in to resume their kiss. Ezra couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his mouth when Anton’s body pressed against his own, skin pressed against burning skin, slender hands caressing him as if he were something precious and desirable.

Kissing Anton had always been intoxicating, holding him close had always been like a drug, but tonight there was an extra edge to it. A sharp edge of _wanting_ born from a decision Ezra had made earlier that morning.

He shifted his mouth away from Anton’s and kissed his way softly along his cheek to his ear. Anton let his head fall back with a hum of pleasure, exposing the long lean line of his neck, and Ezra couldn’t resist laying a few open-mouthed kisses on his creamy chocolate skin. He nuzzled at the soft skin just below Anton’s ear before sucking gently on the earlobe, and Anton let out a noise that bordered on the obscene.

“My love?” Ezra whispered in his ear.

“Hmn?” Anton answered vaguely.

Ezra gathered all his courage, and murmured softly into the space between them: “What say we do something illegal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you all know what's coming tomorrow, right? 😉
> 
> PS a massive THANK YOU to everyone who's reading and commenting - you guys make my day, every time!


	21. How can this be illegal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut! It is, however, the softest thing imaginable.
> 
> If sex is not your thing, you can skip all of this - just check the note at the end for an important plot point.

Anton pulled back to look at him. “Whngk?” he managed, blinking rapidly. Ezra chuckled, feeling a little pleased that he’d managed to fluster his boyfriend so thoroughly.

“What did you say?” Anton managed on the second try.

“I’m sure you heard me perfectly well,” Ezra answered primly.

“Ja, okay. But does that mean? Do you want to... do what, exactly?”

Ezra ducked his head, suddenly bashful. “I’m... not sure, exactly?” he said-asked. “I just know... well, we’ve been together a while now, and... I mean... Gaaah, why is this so hard?” He buried his face in his hands.

Anton took hold of his wrists and gently pried his hands from his face. “Hey, angel,” he said soothingly, folding Ezra’s hands in his own. “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” Ezra said. “It’s you. And I want you... I want you _so_ _much_. I don’t even know what or how, but when you kiss me, or touch me...” Ezra ran out of words at this point and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Anton’s shoulder. “I don’t want to wait any longer,” he whispered.

Anton brought one hand up to cradle his face. “Ez? Look at me, my angel,” he said, his touch and his voice heartbreakingly gentle. “There you are,” he said when their eyes finally met. “This is your first time, yeah? For... what, any of this?”

Ezra nodded wordlessly.

“Wow,” Anton breathed. “What an honour for me. What a goddamn privilege.” He interrupted himself by pressing a kiss to Ezra’s lips, which derailed the conversation for a good while. Ezra could feel the love in that kiss, the passion, the sheer naked desire. It made his toes curl in anticipation.

“Let me show you,” Anton breathed in the space between their mouths. “Let me love you tonight, okay?”

“Yes. Please, yes,” Ezra moaned.

“Oh, my angel. I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Anton promised with a smile, before reclaiming Ezra’s mouth with his own.

Anton took his time, kissing Ezra until he could barely remember his own name, until he lost awareness of everything but Anton’s tongue against his, Anton’s hands roaming over his body, Anton’s weight in his lap, Anton, Anton, Anton...

Closer. They needed to be closer. Ezra wrapped his arms around Anton’s back and pulled him in, and the combined pressure and friction of Anton settling against his crotch made him see stars. It wasn’t the first time he’d held Anton in his lap before, and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been touched (after all, he was a healthy, hot blooded young man with two hands and a vivid imagination – and, it must be said, a very sexy boyfriend to fuel that imagination), but this, _this_ was something else. Something about the moment – the anticipation, the promise of what was to come – made everything feel so much more intense. And they were still just kissing.

Ezra began to wonder if this might actually kill him. He decided he wouldn’t mind if it did. What a way to go.

He slid his hands down to rest on Anton’s arse, and at the same time tilted his hips up, chasing more of that electrifying sensation. Anton moaned into his mouth, pressing down into him in response. _Oh God yes,_ that felt amazing. Ezra wriggled down a bit until he was lying on his back, Anton on top of him, pinning him to the bed. The weight on top of him felt glorious. He ran his hands up Anton’s back and down again, but this time, when he hit the waistband of his shorts, he kept going, wriggling his hands in under the fabric until they were cupping those beautiful buttocks.

“Jislaaik[117], angel,” Anton hissed, “that’s... Christ, wait,”

He sat back up and hooked his thumbs into the top of his shorts, ready to pull them off. Then he hesitated and looked at Ezra. “Do you want to?” he asked, gesturing down with his head.

Wordlessly, Ezra’s hands joined Anton, and together they worked his shorts down over his hips, underpants and all. It was the first time Ezra saw Anton fully naked, and it took his breath away. “Oh, my love,” Ezra breathed, running his fingertips reverently over the newly revealed skin. “You’re... perfect.”

Anton shivered at the attention, and Ezra noticed goosebumps breaking out over his skin. He gently pushed Ezra back down on the bed before running gentle hands down his sides, coming to a stop when they met his trousers. “Your turn? He asked carefully.

“Go ahead. Please,” Ezra said. Anton’s hands moved to his fly, carefully undoing the button first. Ezra gasped at the relief of pressure as the zip came down. His trousers were carefully peeled off and put aside before Anton returned. For a moment he just hovered above Ezra, looking him up and down, overwhelming tenderness and affection in his eyes. Ezra thought he could drown in those golden pools. They had things to do, however. “Come on, now,” he said, wriggling his hips.  
Anton chuckled. “Eager, are we?”

“Very.” Ezra wasn’t even going to lie about that. He was nervous, yes, but also so very ready for this.

“That makes two of us,” Anton said, as he worked Ezra’s underwear down over his hips, running his hands along Ezra’s legs all the way to his ankles. Ezra revelled in the touch.

It was Anton’s turn to stare, and stare he did, mouth hanging ever so slightly open. He was sitting between Ezra’s knees, a hand on each thigh. “Jesus, angel,” he said, voice raw with emotion. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything more beautiful than you in my life.”

When he looked back up to meet Ezra’s gaze, his eyes had changed. Before, they had been filled with gentle love; now, they were blazing with desire. Ezra felt an answering lust flare in his own chest, and he sat up to grab Anton behind the neck, pulling him in for a kiss, open-mouthed and hungry. His other hand flexed on Anton’s side. He wanted nothing more than to touch...

But wait; he could do that, couldn’t he? Tentatively, he let his hand slide along the hard line of Anton’s hip, tracing the edge of the bone as it curved around to the front and dipped down. When the hand reached its target, Anton _whimpered_ , pressing into the touch. Emboldened, Ezra let his hand explore further, dragging his fingertips carefully up Anton’s hard length. Running his thumb across the tip, he was pleased to find a generous bead of fluid – pleased, but not surprised, since he was pretty sure he was getting messy himself. Anton made such beautiful sounds as Ezra touched him that he couldn’t resist wrapping his fingers around him, giving a gentle squeeze.

Anton broke the kiss then, trailing his lips along Ezra’s jaw to his ear. “Lie back down, angel,” he instructed, pushing gently on Ezra’s chest with one hand. Ezra obeyed, but pulled Anton down on top of him, and _oh my_ that felt entirely different with their pants gone. His hips bucked up entirely without conscious thought, instinctively seeking more contact. Anton moved in the same sort of way, and the pushing, rubbing sensation left Ezra gasping. Clearly, this dance was hard-wired into his body, lack of experience notwithstanding. Anton was still kissing and licking at his ear, suckling and occasionally nibbling at the lobe, and the sensation was overwhelming. He writhed under the attention, making sounds that he was sure he would be embarrassed about tomorrow, but not giving a damn.

Anton trailed his mouth down Ezra’s neck, kissing and licking as he went, driving Ezra crazy. One long open-mouthed kiss, which was more of a suck really, culminated in a sharp stab of almost-pain that made Ezra cry out. Anton pulled away and gently kissed the area. “Sorry angel,” he murmured between soft presses of lips. “Forgot myself. You’re just so damn delicious.”

Ezra grasped his head and pulled him into a kiss. “Don’t you dare apologise,” he said. “Or stop. That was hundred percent a happy cry, I promise.”

Anton grinned at him, a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Oh, there’s so much more where that came from,” he said. “But if I do anything you don’t like, or you want me to stop, you say so, okay?” Ezra nodded, and Anton gave him one last kiss before returning his attention to his neck, this time on the other side.

Ezra lost track of time, of place, of everything but Anton’s mouth burning kisses into the skin of his neck, his shoulders, his chest. When Anton’s tongue swept across a nipple, Ezra keened with pleasure; when he sucked on it, Ezra nearly bucked him off the bed. Anton grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. “Oh, you like that, do you?” he said, and bit at the nipple lightly. Ezra made a sound that was barely even human.

Anton kept up his ministrations, slowly but steadily making his way down Ezra’s body. Through the haze of pink filling his mind, it occurred to Ezra to wonder if Anton was heading... _there_. He was far too embarrassed to ask, though – couldn’t even say the words in his own mind, for goodness’ sake – so he decided just to let things play out. Oh, but he hoped, he hoped...

His hope was not in vain. When the kisses reached the crease of his thigh, a particularly ticklish spot that made Ezra giggle, Anton looked up at him. The desire in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Angel,” he said, voice raw. “Can I...” He trailed a finger up Ezra’s length as he spoke, making it clear exactly what he wanted. Ezra twitched in anticipation, another drop of fluid pulsing out to land on his stomach.

“Yes. Please, yes,” he rasped.

Anton smiled like a kid that had just heard Christmas was coming early. He bent his head down to Ezra’s belly, licking at the smears of precome with an appreciative ‘hmmm’ sound. Ezra watched – well, as much as his lust-addled senses would allow him to focus – as Anton wrapped slender fingers around the base of his cock and placed a gentle kiss on the tip. The combination of the sight and the sensation nearly finished him off right there, and his hips gave a violent jerk.

“Easy, cowboy,” Anton said with a chuckle. “I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

Oh yes. This was definitely going to kill him.

Anton resumed his kissing, moving down the shaft and then licking his way back up to the tip, once, twice, three times. It was excruciating; a pleasure so acute it was almost torture. Ezra couldn’t imagine a more intense sensation, but he was quickly proven wrong when Anton’s lips slid around him, taking just the glans into his mouth while his tongue licked lazily. Ezra’s hips, those damnable hips with a mind of their own, thrust up, seeking more of that delicious wet heat. Anton didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he pressed into the movement, taking Ezra in deep before pulling back until he almost came off, then pushing down again.

Despite his inexperience with a lover, Ezra knew what an impending orgasm felt like, and he knew it was close. He’d rather lost control of his voice by this point, so he tapped Anton on the head. When he looked up, Ezra managed, “I’m gonna...”

Anton smiled up at him and said gently, “Let go, my angel. I’ve got you,” before ducking his head down to continue where he left off. And not a minute later, Ezra did, blindsided by a climax unlike anything he’d ever experienced by his own hand.

As soon as he regained control of an arm he leaned down to grab Anton’s shoulder and pull him up to him. Anton kissed his cheeks – belatedly, Ezra realised they were wet with tears, and wondered when that had happened. “I love you,” he mumbled, voice cracking with emotion, body still trembling with aftershocks as he clung to his impossibly wonderful boyfriend. “I love you so much. Why are you so perfect?”

Anton nuzzled at Ezra’s neck. “I take it you enjoyed that, then?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

“That, my dear, was the single most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced,” Ezra said, not even exaggerating a little bit. Then a thought struck him. “Oh, but what about you? You haven’t...”

He was cut off by a chuckle from Anton. “First off, if you think that wasn’t the most amazing thing _I’ve_ experienced, you’d better think again. Having you like that... angel, it’s the stuff of dreams. No, of fantasies.”

“Yes, but,” Ezra insisted.

“Secondly,” Anton continued firmly, “I’m, in fact, quite done.” He guided Ezra’s hand down to his cock, which was soft and rather sticky. “Watching you fall apart like that... fok, nearly killed me.” It may have been his imagination, but Anton’s eyes seemed to glaze over a little at the recollection. “Which reminds me, we should probably change the linen. Made a bit of a mess down there.”

Ezra couldn’t help laughing at that. Then he remembered something. He leaned over to the bedside table to retrieve the packet from the hardware store where he’d stopped on the way back from his visit to Mr. Meyer.

“I got you something,” he said, handing it over to Anton. He watched as Anton extracted a keyring with two keys from the packet.

“Angel? What are these for?” he asked.

“They’re for... well, here,” Ezra explained. “I want you to be able to come and go as you please. Think of this as your home. Not that you have to stay here,” he added hastily, “But just, if you want to. Any time you want to.”

Anton stared at him wordlessly for a few beats, and Ezra started to worry that he’d overstepped, but then Anton tackled him in such an enthusiastic hug that he ended up flat on his back.

“Thank you, angel,” he said. “This is... just incredible. I love you so much.”

“And I you, my dear,” he said, holding Anton tight. “My heart is yours, and my home too.”

“You are my home,” Anton mumbled in his neck. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

“Yes. Oh, yes, my love,” Ezra echoed, tears pricking his eyes and joy threatening to overwhelm him. In that moment he knew: he wanted this for ever, for the rest of his life, and he would do whatever it too to keep Anton by his side. A life without him was just not an option anymore.

### Notes

117 Jislaaik (pronounced YIS-like) = another common generic sort of exclamation. Probably derived from ‘Jesus’[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you skipped the smut, here's a summary: Oral sex. Also, importantly, Ezra gives Anton a key to his place and invites him to stay as much or as often as he likes. Anton fully intends to never leave again.


	22. A rainy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter from Anton's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone enjoyed seeing things from Anton's viewpoint last time, so here's another look in his head.  
> It's on the short side, sorry, but there's some art to make up for it.
> 
> There's some mentioned/discussed sex in this chapter, but nothing explicit.

Anton woke up in his very favourite place the next morning: curled up against Ezra’s back with his arm around the love of his life. This morning, unusually, Ezra wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Anton wiggled closer until they were pressed together, enjoying the feeling of slightly sweaty skin against his own. He nuzzled into the fine hair at Ezra’s neck, enjoying the feel of him and reliving the previous evening in his mind. He almost couldn’t believe it had finally happened; it felt as if he’d dreamed it, just like so many times before. But no, this one was for real. There was a set of keys lying on the bedside table that proved it, and wasn’t that a thing?

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50087396467/in/dateposted-public/)

He felt Ezra stir in his arms and heard him mumble something unintelligible. Was he waking up, or just talking in his sleep? “Morning, angel,” Anton said softly, pressing a kiss at the nape of his neck.

Angel mumbled something that may have been a “morning” and stretched his arms out in front of him, arching his back at the same time and pressing back against Anton. Then he squirmed around until they were lying face to face.

“Morning, my love,” he said, and his face was so beautiful, all soft and sleep-addled and lined with pillow creases, that Anton just had to kiss him, morning breath be damned.

“Blech,” Ezra responded, sticking out his tongue.

“Blech yourself,” Anton chuckled, pressing another kiss on his forehead. Ezra snuggled into his neck.

“Hmm, you smell nice over here,” he said after a moment. Then he gave a little lick, the silly bastard. “Taste nice, too. Salty.”

Anton chuckled. “Okay, I have a suggestion,” he said. “How about a five-minute break to pee and brush our teeth, then we come back here and you can lick anything you like.”

“Cheek!” Ezra said in a tone of mock offence, slapping Anton playfully on the arm, but Anton knew him well enough to tell that he was pleased with the suggestion.

“You love it,” he said confidently.

“I do,” Ezra admitted with a happy sigh. “Okay, five minutes.”

Thee minutes and fifty-eight seconds later, Ezra was clambering on top of Anton and pushing him down on to his back. And with a bit of encouragement and guidance from Anton, he did indeed lick everything he pleased, and also kissed, sucked, and even bit a few spots. Anton nearly invented a whole new language to curse in.

\--

When he walked into their shared house that evening, humming an off-key rendition of _‘Crazy little thing called love[118]’_, Harry and Lunga both looked up in unison.

“Why are you so cheerful?” Harry asked. “You look like you’ve won the jackpot.”

“I sure feel like I did,” Anton answered with a smile.

“Good weekend, I take it?” Lunga asked.

“The best,” Anton confirmed.

“Oh yeah?” Harry asked, his knowing grin reflected on Lu’s face. “Anything you should tell us?”

“Now, now, guys,” Anton admonished coyly, “A lady never kisses and tells.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t no lady,” Lu said, “And you don’t have to tell anyway. You have ‘afterglow’ written all over you.”

“I do, don’t I?” Anton said, smiling happily as he sank into a chair.

His pseudo-brothers squealed like schoolgirls. “You finally fucking did it!” Harry said. “About bloody time! Never seen two people so in love dance around each other for so long. The sexual tension was getting unbearable.”

“Yes, thank you, I noticed,” Anton said. “It was my sexual tension, after all. Well, ours.”

“And?” Lunga asked. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Fok, ja!” Anton said, the dopey smile returning to his face. “A thousand times over.”

\---

Monday at work, Anton’s boss yelled at him no less than three times for daydreaming when he should have been working. Anton barely even noticed, and calmly went on watering the statues and sweeping the lawns. He had better things on his mind.

That afternoon, he didn’t board his usual bus to Soweto, but caught one to Hillbrow instead. A thunderstorm was brewing, and that had given Anton an idea, so he stopped off at Checkers on his way home for flour, eggs and cinnamon.

Ezra wasn’t home yet when he arrived, so he let himself in, feeling a thrill at the fact that _he had his own key_. He smiled at the first raindrops splattering against the window. Perfect.

By the time Ezra arrived half an hour later, Anton was hard at work in the kitchen, the smell of hot oil, batter and cinnamon making the whole flat smell like a church fete[119]. Anton set the pan aside when he heard the door open, and was greeted by Ezra looking thoroughly soaked and absolutely stunned.

“You’re here,” he said, looking like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“I am,” Anton confirmed with a smile. “Why on earth wouldn’t I be?”

“I... I wasn’t sure you’d want to...” Ezra stuttered.

“Silly angel,” Anton said, kissing him. “You should know by now that there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you. You’re never getting rid of me, now.”

“And Harry and Lu?” Ezra asked. “Don’t they mind?”

“Nah,” Anton reassured him. “When they heard you gave me a key, they practically kicked me out.” Anton had, in fact, been worried about the same thing; that his long-time roommates might be offended or otherwise unhappy if he were to start staying at Ezra’s place more often. Instead, they’d been like proud parents whose baby had just taken its first wobbly steps. _We’ll keep your room just as it is,_ Harry had said, _and you’ll always have a home here, but for God’s sake, go be with him. He makes you happier than anything I’ve ever seen._ So Anton had followed his advice and packed a few changes of clothes into a backpack before he set off to work, and gave each of his friends a long, lingering hug before he left, with a promise to see them again on the weekend.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I forgot my umbrella.” Ezra’s voice pulled him back to the present. He was shrugging out of his jacket, revealing that even the shirt underneath was soaked. He must have really gotten drenched. “I’m going to go get out of these wet clothes.”

“You do that,” Anton said, pushing down a thought of how lovely Ezra looked with his wet shirt clinging to his body, outlining every curve. “Take a shower if you like. I’ll finish up here and make you something warm to drink.”

Ezra smiled gratefully. “You are entirely too wonderful,” he said, and gave Anton a last kiss before disappearing into the bedroom.

\--

Not long after, they were huddled together on the couch, eating sticky pancakes with their hands and watching lighting flash across the sky. Somehow it devolved into feeding each other, licking sugar off their fingers and trading sticky kisses. Ezra tasted of tea and cinnamon sugar and love, and it was absolutely perfect.

They finished their food, but stayed cuddled on the couch, looking out at the rain and enjoying the strange thrill of being together in the middle of the week.

“My love,” Ezra asked eventually, sounding a bit nervous. “Have you ever...erm... had sex with a man?”

“What exactly do you think we were doing on the weekend?” Anton asked, teasing. It was so adorable when Ezra got all flustered, he couldn’t resist goading him just a little.

“No, you tease,” Ezra said, blushing bright pink. “I mean, like, _proper_ sex. You know.” Ezra waved his hands vaguely.

Anton decided to have mercy and complete the sentence for him. “You mean anally?”

Ezra nodded, looking down. He was clearly embarrassed out of his skin, and Anton had to admire his bravery for initiating a conversation he was so clearly uncomfortable with.

“I haven’t,” he said. “I mean, I’ve done it with women, the, erm, usual way. But never with a man.”

“Why not?” Ezra asked.

Anton shrugged. “Never had a male lover for long enough. It seems so... personal. It would take a whole lot of trust from me, and, well, there’s never been a man like that. At least,” he added, looking sideways at Ezra, “up until now.”

“And is that something you want?” Ezra asked softly. Anton was finding it difficult to judge the tone of his voice – was he nervous, was he scared, was he trying to say he wanted it? Or didn’t want it? It was impossible to tell. Anton decided to opt for straightforward truthfulness.

“I want you in every way it’s possible to want someone, angel. In every way you’re willing to give yourself to me. But,” he put a hand under Ezra’s chin, gently lifting his face to look him in the eye. “There’s no rush, my love. We have a lifetime to figure out what we like.”

Ezra gave him a shy smile. “Really?” he asked.

“Of course,” Anton answered.

\--

That night in bed, curled up with the love of his life, Anton couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation. Ezra just kept surprising him. He would never have expected his modest, conservative boyfriend to start those kinds of discussions, and yet he did, even when he was writhing with embarrassment. It made a peculiar sort of warmth bloom in Anton’s chest, to think that Ezra considered him worth enduring that sort of discomfort. Not that Anton was much more confident discussing such things; he was simply better at faking it.

Truth be told, he was a little relieved that Ezra hadn’t wanted to go at it right away. He wasn’t sure he would have survived that, coming out of the blue the way it did. Sure, he knew the theory (that had been one hell of an uncomfortable discussion with Lu, when the older man realised how serious he was about Ezra and had decided to give him some ‘brotherly advice’), but he was sorely lacking in experience, and more than a little nervous about it.

Now that it had been put on the table, though... now his mind kept coming back to the thought, like a mosquito bite that just got itchier the more it was scratched. The thought of burying himself in Ezra’s body like that, or of having Ezra inside him, of being that vulnerable with the one person he trusted above any other... He shivered. No, he’d better stop that train of thought right now, or he would never get to sleep, and he had to work tomorrow.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, savouring that particular mix of scents he’d learned to think of as ‘Ezra’: a blend of Palmolive shampoo, Pierre Cardin cologne and a sweaty, human sort of aroma all muddled up. It was Anton’s favourite smell in the whole world; the smell of love and home and belonging. Slightly tinged with cinnamon, tonight. Delicious.

He let himself relax, and when he eventually drifted off to sleep, it was with a smile on his lips.

### Notes

118 _There goes my baby, he knows how to rock 'n' roll, he drives me crazy, he gives me hot and cold fever then he leaves me in a cool cool sweat..._ (Apologies to Freddie for the change in pronouns. Although I’m sure he’d approve.)[return to text]

191 It’s a South African thing to make pancakes when it rains. I should clarify that what we call pancakes are what the rest of the world calls crepes (Those fat things you eat for breakfast are called flapjacks). We traditionally eat them sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and rolled up. They’re the best if you sprinkle them with the cinnamon sugar as you bake and stack them, and the bottom ones get all syrupy and gooey. It’s like having dessert for supper. Oh, and old anties at church fetes make the very best pancakes; there is simply no competition.[return to text]


	23. A change is as good as a holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some big changes in Ezra's life, both professionally and personally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Ezra's family. So, racism it is.

By July, Sanderson had given up any hope of getting Ezra to blindly follow his instructions, and decided to move him into something more administrative. This meant that Ezra ended up doing the work of a glorified conveyancing secretary[120], preparing documents for property sales and transfers. It wasn’t the most exciting work, but at least it didn’t confront him with any major ethical dilemmas, so Ezra shut his mouth and did his work.

He did his work so well, in fact, that Sanderson started giving him all his conveyancing work to do, claiming he was too busy (read: important) to be held up with such menial work (but pocketing the fee nonetheless). Ezra quickly became the office’s specialist in the practical legalities of buying and selling real estate, whether he wanted to or not. Regardless of his personal preferences, he was good at the job, and the clients adored him.

For this reason, the firm decided to send Ezra on a two-day short course at Wits to catch up on the latest in developments in property law. Ezra was thrilled at the chance to return to his old stomping grounds, however briefly, and escape the drudgery of the office for a few days. If the lectures themselves were rather dry and boring, well, that was a small price to pay.

Walking to the cafeteria to grab a bite of lunch on the second day, he was pulled up by someone saying his name. “Ezra Fell, is that you?” He turned around to see a middle-aged man, bald as a billiard ball but with a beard Martinus Steyn[121] himself would have envied, smiling behind a pair of frankly enormous spectacles. It was Professor Veldman, who had been his supervisor for his final year research paper.

“Hello, Prof!” he greeted him with a smile and a handshake. “It’s lovely to see you.” This was entirely the truth; they had always gotten along well. Prof Veldman had an encyclopaedic knowledge of... well, everything, it seemed, with a razor-sharp wit to match. His classes had been some of Ezra’s favourites.

“And what are you doing here?” The prof asked. “Shouldn’t you be busy working somewhere as a slave – ah, excuse me, an article clerk?”

Ezra chuckled. “You’re not that far off, I’m afraid. I’m just here for the property law workshop.”

“I see,” said the Prof. “Care to join me for lunch? I always like to hear how our students are getting on in the world.”

Ezra agreed readily. It certainly beat dining alone.

“So, how are you finding the world of practicing law?” Veldman asked him, once they were settled at a table with their food.

“To be honest, it’s rather boring.” Ezra shrugged. “But I suppose that’s a clerk’s lot. My principal hasn’t exactly taken a shine to me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Veldman said. “Your lecturers all liked you, as I recall.” (This was entirely true. Ezra had been a diligent student, and unfailingly polite to boot. What more could a teacher ask for?)

“Yes, well.” Ezra didn’t really want to get into the details of him and Sanderson’s disagreements. “Let’s just say, our value systems don’t quite align, and it caused some friction. I think he decided to put me in conveyancing to keep me out of his hair.”

“What a shame,” Veldman mused. “I’m surprised you didn’t stay on for postgraduate studies, to be honest. I think academia would have suited you well.”

“You may be right,” Ezra admitted. “I certainly miss university. But one has to pay the bills. My father was willing to bankroll me up to my bachelors, but then he felt that I needed to learn to look after myself.”

“Hmmm,” Veldman replied, thoughtfully. “And if you could study and earn a salary here at the same time? Is that something you would be interested in?”

Ezra couldn’t believe his ears. “Absolutely. But surely that’s not an option? As far as I know, even a junior lecturer has to have a Master’s.”

“Hmm.” Veldman said again. “Let me talk to the dean. We have been known to make exceptions.”

The conversation wandered off into other topics after that, but before they parted, Veldman asked for Ezra’s phone number. “I’m serious about getting you back here to study,” he said. “I’ll call you as soon as I’ve spoken to the dean.”

Ezra returned to the workshop feeling more excited about his career than he had in months.

\--

True to his word, Veldman called the very next day, and asked Ezra to come and see him the following Monday.

It was early on Friday when he got the call, which meant that Ezra had three whole days to fret about it. He spent the weekend in a tizzy, overthinking every possible scenario and trying to plan for all of them. Anton did not understand his anxiety at all, but he listened to Ezra’s rantings good-naturedly, and when that got a bit too much for him, found something better for Ezra’s mouth to do. As it turned out, orgasms were an excellent way to discharge nervous energy, and had the added bonus of tiring Ezra out enough that he could actually fall asleep.

Finally, Monday arrived.

“So, let’s cut to the chase,” Veldman said once they were settled in his office. “I spoke to the dean, and he’s on my page. It seems you made quite an impression as a student. So, we’re willing to offer you an assistant lecturer position, on the condition that you start with your Master’s immediately. As soon as you finish your M, you’ll get a full lecturer position – if we’re happy with your work, of course. Sound okay?”

“That sounds... amazing, actually,” Ezra said. Almost too good to be true. He wondered where the catch was. “What exactly would the lecturing job entail?”

“Well, that depends on how next year’s timetables work out, but usually an assistant lecturer takes one first-year class per semester, as well as acting as a tutor on an as-needed basis. The lecturing duties shouldn’t take up more than half of your weekly hours, so there will be plenty of time left to work on your studies.”

That sounded fair, Ezra thought. “And, um, the salary?”

Veldman chuckled. “I was wondering when we’d get to that,” he said.

“Yes, well. You know how it is,” Ezra smiled sheepishly.

“I’m afraid academia doesn’t pay awfully well at the best of times, and you’d be the most junior person in the department,” Veldman said, sliding over a piece of paper. “This is what personnel gave me as the ‘standard package’ for your post level.”

Ezra took a look at the figure, and had to stifle a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Veldman asked, perplexed.

“Sir, this is almost 50% more than I’m being paid as a clerk,” Ezra said with a smile.

“Good God, really?” Veldman responded, aghast. “They really do treat you poor kids like slaves.”

Ezra could only nod.

“So what do you say?” Veldman asked. “Care to join us?”

“I rather think I do,” Ezra replied with a smile.

“Excellent,” Veldman said, clapping his hands. “I’ll have personnel draw up a formal offer and courier it to your office. In the meantime, you have a look at this,” he handed Ezra a copy of the yearbook[122], “and start thinking about what modules you want to take and a topic for your dissertation.”

\--

Ezra spent the rest of the afternoon reading through the yearbook, thinking up ideas for his research and mentally drafting his resignation letter for Sanderson.

Once the job offer was signed, he drafted said resignation for real, albeit in a more professional tone than his mental letter had been written, and minus the expletives. He delivered it to the man in person on the first of December – just over four weeks in advance of his last working day, as his contract stipulated.

Sanderson was predictably enraged at what he saw as Ezra’s betrayal. “After I put in a whole year to whip you into shape, you’re just throwing it back in my face?!” he’d fumed. “Some sort of gratitude that is.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Ezra said, “I was never going to stay on here after finishing my articles. You know as well as I do that we weren’t a good match, professionally.”

“That’s besides the point,” Sanderson said. “I gave you a chance, and you spat in my face. You know what, forget the four weeks’ notice. Be out of here by the end of the day, and I don’t want to see your face again.”

“Well, that could have gone better,” Ezra said to himself after Sanderson’s door slammed behind him. He tried to muster up an ounce of regret as he cleared out his few personal belongings from his desk. Instead, he simply felt a glorious sense of freedom.

\---

_December_

It was Christmastime again, and Ezra was, like every year, on his way to the farm. This year, however, there were two important changes.

The first was that he had managed to save up enough during the year to buy a second-hand VW Golf. She was a pretty little pale green thing the colour of mint ice-cream, and Ezra had fallen in love with her on first sight[123]. He had spent his unexpectedly free early December taking a few lessons from Newton and finally getting his driver’s licence. And so, for the first time, Ezra wasn’t taking a train down to Bloemfontein, but driving there himself.

The second was fidgeting in the seat next to him as they turned onto the dirt road leading to the farm. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Anton asked nervously, fingers tapping out a staccato rhythm on the armrest.

“No,” Ezra admitted. “But Gogo was begging me. You know I can’t say no to her.”

“I know,” Anton admitted with a smile. “I got the same, believe me. And I _am_ looking forward to seeing her again.” Since Ezra’s last visit to his family, when everyone learned that Anton had not in fact dropped off the face of the earth, they’d made an effort to phone Sophie at least once every two weeks. She had been absolutely thrilled, but Ezra knew she wanted to see Anton in person. He also knew, though he didn’t want to admit it, that she was getting on in years; she was in her seventies now, and she wouldn’t be around for ever. All in all, he considered it worth risking whatever tantrums his family would throw.

He pulled up the driveway and parked the car, taking a deep breath to steel himself. “Ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Anton shrugged. He was trying to put on a brave face, but Ezra could see the slight tremor in his hands. Ezra could only imagine that the place must have brought back some awful memories for him. He took one of those slender hands in his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He would have preferred a reassuring kiss, but they both knew why that would be a spectacularly bad idea. Ezra was looking forward to having to act like purely platonic friends for these few days about as much as he was eagerly anticipating his family’s reaction to seeing his guest.

As usual, no-one had come out to greet them, so they made their way around the back of the house, to the always-open kitchen door. The next few moments were something Ezra wished he could have recorded, to replay to himself on dreary days in the years to come. Gogo’s face when she saw Anton, her cry of disbelief, Anton’s answering smile; it was a sight to warm the coldest of hearts. They were locked in a tearful, laughing embrace when Gabriel came running in, presumably alerted by Sophie’s shout.

“Sophie, what’s wro- WHAT THE FUCK?!” Gabriel’s voice crescendo-ed from concern to outrage as he took in the situation. “Ezra! What’s he-? FATHER!”

Their father came running into the kitchen, probably convinced that there was a fire or something. He took in the scene and put up a hand to silence Gabriel, who was babbling at a mile a minute.

“Explain,” he demanded, fixing Ezra with a glare.

Ezra willed his voice not to tremble. “I brought a friend home for Christmas,” he said. Honestly, why were they so dense?

“I don’t think so,” his father said. “No garden boy is a friend of my family. If he stays, he’s sleeping outside with the servants, and I don’t want him in the house. Understood?”

His father was already turning away when Ezra found his voice. “No,” he said.

“Excuse me?” his father replied, voice low and dangerous.

“I said no,” Ezra said, finding his confidence. “He’s here as my guest, and he’ll get the same treatment you’d give any other friend of mine.”

“You dare come into my house with that piece of shit, making demands of me?” his father growled angrily.

“I don’t think common courtesy is an unreasonable request,” Ezra countered.

“I’m showing him all the courtesy he deserves,” his father spat. “Now get out of my house,” he snarled at Anton. “In fact, get off my property. You’re no longer welcome here.”

Ezra saw Anton’s jaw muscles clenching as he worked to contain the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. He stepped between his father and Anton. “If he’s not welcome here, then neither am I,” he said defiantly.

“Then I guess you aren’t,” his father snarled. “You’re no son of mine.”

Ezra swallowed, then nodded. “Right, then,” he said, nodding to his father and Gabriel. He turned to Sophie. “I’m sorry our visit has been cut short, Gogo,” he said. “Perhaps you can come see us in Joburg sometime.” He greeted her with a last hug, and she whispered in his ear “We’ll talk soon, omncane. I’m proud of you.”

Ezra made it halfway down the dirt road before his composure cracked. His hands were shaking so much that he had to pull of the road, in real danger of crashing the car. Anton wrapped him in his strong arms, held him tight and whispered comforting words to him until the panic subsided and he was able to breathe normally again.

“Well. That’s that, I guess,” he said with a shaky little laugh, once he found his voice again.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Anton opined.

Ezra burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Anton said, completely baffled by Ezra’s response.

“That’s exactly what Michelle said when you left,” he explained between giggles. “Only this time, I think it’s actually true.”

Anton chuckled too, but then turned serious. “I’m so sorry it turned out like this, angel. I never meant to come between you and your family.”

“Don’t be,” Ezra countered. “They’re not worth it. I’d choose you over them every time.” He put one hand on Anton’s cheek, running his thumb over the cheekbone. “You’re my family now, my love. Have been for a long time.”

Anton teared up at Ezra’s words, but gave him a watery little smile. He took hold of the hand on his cheek and brought it to his lips. “I love you, my angel,” he said. “My best friend, my only one, my family.”

Ezra didn’t realise it at the time, but he would never go back to the farm again. He broke his last ties a few months into the new year when, at Mama Aida’s behest, they brought their beloved Gogo to Soweto to retire. With the last of his heart’s true family finally settled in Joburg, Ezra would have no reason to return to the Free State again.

### Notes

120 Conveyancing, for those who don’t know, involves all the legal stuff that needs to happen when property (as in real estate) is bought or sold. So, if you buy a house, that’s why you have a lawyer/attorney involved. In SA, many attorneys also do bond registration, so they act as an intermediary between the buyer and the bank that is offering the loan. A lot of the grunt work is not done by the attorneys themselves but by conveyancing secretaries or article clerks. It’s a pretty lucrative job when the property market is healthy.[return to text]

121 Martinus Steyn was the last president of the Orange Free State before SA was unified into a single republic. He had some remarkable facial hair. You can see it [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martinus_Theunis_Steyn#/media/File:MT_Steyn_Boer_War.jpg). (Fun fact: a statue of him at the University of the Free State was removed in June 2020 just a few days before I originally wrote this piece).[return to text]

122 Yearbook here may mean something other than what you’re used to. At South African universities, a yearbook details the different fields of study and qualifications that are offered by a faculty and the requirements and curricula for each.[return to text]

123 My first car was also a Golf; a red devil with a 1.8L engine that could move much faster than a Golf should be allowed to. It was a bitch to park, being too old for power steering, but I loved that car so much *sigh*. [Here](https://mybroadband.co.za/news/motoring/266823-what-the-first-vw-golf-in-south-africa-looked-like.html) is a picture of Ezra’s car, as I imagine it.[return to text]


	24. Let's change the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra's new job leads him to meet some interesting people, and he starts to get seriously involved in creating the kind of world they want to live in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter on, we start taking some bigger jumps forward in time. Buckle in, babies.  
> I apologise in advance for the vast number of footnotes in this chapter. There's some stuff worth checking out in there, though.
> 
> CW: quite a bit of homophobia. Nothing violent, though, but some verbal abuse.

_1988 [124]_

Ezra looked up at the knock on his office door – yes, he had an office at Wits now, complete with his name on the door. In fact, if all went to plan, he would have to get a new nameplate made in a few months: his PhD thesis was in its final stages of review, so he would be Dr Fell before long. Veldman had been right; Ezra had taken to academia as if it were made for him. He was loved by his students and colleagues alike, and at the young age of 28 was already considered an expert in his chosen field of study. In the end, he had focused his thesis on the matters closest to his heart: homosexuality, its status in law and the human rights implications of legislating the expression of sexuality. In addition to academic research, he had conducted interviews with scores of gay men and women in Joburg, and had become quite a well-known figure at the local LGBT organizations[125].

Ezra got out of his chair to answer the door. He was expecting someone named Simon who wanted to talk to him about his research – that was all he knew, since the department secretary had scheduled the meeting. He greeted his visitor, a skinny black man not much older than himself who looked vaguely familiar. “I’m Ezra Fell,” he said, extending a hand. “Please, come in. You’re Simon, right?”

“Yes, Simon Nkoli[126],” the man offered, shaking his hand.

On hearing the man’s name, it suddenly clicked: Ezra had indeed seen the man before, in the newspapers no less. “Oh,” he said, momentarily at a loss for words. “I know you. Well, sort of. From the papers.”

Simon smiled at him. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

“Well, let’s see,” Ezra said thoughtfully. “I really only know what’s in the news, namely that you were one of the Delmas Treason Trialists[127]. I also know you used to be involved in GASA, but they kicked you out for your political convictions. Which is ironic, since your political comrades don’t seem to have abandoned you for your sexual orientation. Is that right?”

Simon chuckled. “I can see you’ve done your homework, Dr Fell.”

“Oh, I’m not a doctor yet,” Ezra laughed, “and I’d much prefer if you just call me Ezra. As for doing my homework, well, it was the subject of my PhD, so I’d hope I know the scene.”

“That’s actually why I’m here,” Simon said. “Your name came up a few times as an expert in the law and LGBT rights. But now it’s my turn to ask you a question: are you one of us? I rather suspect you are.”

Somehow, Ezra knew instinctively that he could trust Simon. They were in the same boat, after all. “If by ‘one of us’ you mean gay, then yes, I am,” he confirmed.

“And where do you stand on the political issues?” Simon continued. “Do you prefer to stick your head in the sand like the rest of the white guys from GASA?” Clearly, he wasn’t one to mince his words.

“Those guys don’t have their heads in the sand,” Ezra said. “If I may be so bold, they have their heads up their arses.”

Simon laughed. “That’s precisely it. Honestly, I don’t know how they don’t see it. Take me: I am black and I am gay. If you fight for my freedom as a gay man without fighting for my freedom as a black man, how will I ever be free?”

Ezra considered for a moment. “Can I tell you a little secret, Simon?” he went on. “My interest in this matter isn’t just academic. It’s very much personal. My partner of five years, the love of my life, he’s a black man. Well, coloured, but it boils down to the same thing in the end, doesn’t it? I’ll never be happy in a world where he’s a second-class citizen, where we can’t even go to a bloody restaurant together because of the colour of his skin, no matter how legal our love may be. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“More than you can imagine,” Simon said, something unreadable in his eyes. Ezra gave him a questioning look, to which he responded with a smile. “Let’s just say, if anyone official-looking asks, I’m Roy’s gardener[128].”

Ezra blinked a few times until he realised what Simon was saying, and then he laughed. “It seems we really do understand each other, then.” He settled back in his chair, smiling broadly. “So, what can I help you with?”

“We’re forming a new organization, to step in where GASA failed us. An organization that will fight for gay rights, but also for non-racialism, for a truly equal South Africa[129].”

“That sounds like a very worthwhile pursuit,” Ezra said. “Where do I come in, though?”

“We could use a lawyer,” Simon explained. “Someone who knows their way around all the legalities of what we’re doing. I’ve spent quite enough time in prison.”

“Well, I can’t promise I’ll keep you out of trouble,” Ezra chuckled, “And I’m not actually registered to practise law. But I’ll be glad to help where I can.”

“Fantastic.” Simon was grinning broadly. “Listen, we’re having a meeting next Saturday. Do you want to join us? Come see what we’re all about?”

Ezra agreed readily, and they sorted out the practicalities of when and where. Simon was surprised when Ezra wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the prospect of meeting in Soweto, until he learned about Ezra’s home-away-from-home in Dube. “You really are something else,” he chuckled at Ezra, who felt like that was the biggest compliment he’d received in his life.

\---

_1990 [130]_

On the morning of 13 October, Ezra woke up with a sense of anticipation and practically bounced out of bed, despite hardly having slept the night before. It was an important day, a day that they had been planning and working on for months now: it was the day of the Gay and Lesbian Pride march.

Ezra had gotten steadily more involved with GLOW, Simon’s organisation, over the past two years. He had become everyone’s go-to source of legal advice, and had taken charge of preparing all their legal statements, press releases, formal submissions to government and the like[131]. Anton had been involved right alongside him from day one, and Harry and Lu had also joined not long after. One or more of them could be seen at every rally, every meeting, every advocacy workshop. It was tough going, but Simon was a man on a mission: a mission to see every man and woman being treated as equal before the law, regardless of race or sexual orientation.

Ezra and Anton left for the meeting place early, to help with any final preparations. A few of the GLOW guys were already there – as were, unfortunately, a few of the more vocal opponents from various religious organisations. Ezra could only roll his eyes at their yelled admonishments that _‘homosexuality is a grave sin’_ and their entreaties to _‘turn to Jesus or burn in hell’._ If they thought that telling someone their sexual orientation was wrong would somehow turn them straight, they had another think coming. As he could attest, it just didn’t work like that.

He was a bit nervous that the very visible opposition, and the inevitable media attention that it drew, would dissuade people from coming. Discrimination and victimisation were very much a reality for anyone who was openly homosexual, men and women alike.

He needn’t have worried, however. As the morning went on, more and more people joined them, until they numbered in the hundreds. True, some people wore masks or even paper bags on their heads; not out of shame, but as a symbol of the fear gays and lesbians had to live in[132].

For their part, Ezra and Anton marched proudly hand-in-hand. A lot had changed in the last few years. For one thing, the country finally seemed to be on the way to getting rid of Apartheid, and many of the barriers that had kept black and white apart were crumbling. Hillbrow, for instance, now housed people of every imaginable race and culture.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for homosexuality; both society and the law were still very much against them. On that front, the changes had taken place mainly in Ezra’s own head, after he surrounded himself with like-minded people who loved and accepted him for who he was. Most people who knew him beyond a superficial level were aware that he was gay, and everyone close to him knew about Anton. He was well past the point of caring whether anyone saw them. They enthusiastically joined in the chants of “We’re here, we’re queer, we’re everywhere!”

Simon, of course, was on top form, and delivered a rousing speech. “I'm fighting for the abolition of apartheid, _and_ I fight for the right of freedom of sexual orientation,” he said. “These are inextricably linked with each other. I cannot be free as a black man if I am not free as a gay man[133].” This drew a loud cheer from the crowd, and in particular from Ezra and Anton. In the end, despite all the fear and drama and counter-protest, they counted the day as a success. They had hoped to draw attention to LGBT issues as part of the bigger political discussion going on in the country, and they had certainly done that – judging by the scads of reporters and TV cameras, Simon’s speech would be on every news show and newspaper in the country within the next 24 hours. Mission accomplished.

Ezra and Anton arrived back at their flat that evening exhausted, but nearly giddy with joy. Ezra opened a bottle of sparkling wine and poured them each a glass. “To our first Pride!” he said.

Anton clinked their glasses together. “May it be the first of many!”

Ezra put his free hand around Anton and pulled him close. “I’m so glad I could share it with you, my love,” he said, smiling up at him.

They were in the middle of a passionate kiss that was just starting to get interesting when the phone rang. Ezra groaned, but untangled himself to go and answer it.

It turned out to be Ana. “Turn on TV1!” she said, sounding excited. “Your parade is on the news!”

Ezra relayed the instruction to Anton, who quickly got the TV tuned to the right channel. Sure enough, there was Simon, delivering his impassioned speech. Ezra beamed with pride.

“Thanks for calling, Ana. That was amazing to see.” They said their goodbyes and Ezra walked back to where Anton was sitting on the couch. He slid a hand around the back of Anton’s head. “Now, where were we,” he purred.

“I believe we were about to celebrate,” Anton retorted, and Ezra pulled him in to resume their kiss.

But, as Murphy would have it, they were interrupted by the phone once again. Ezra gave a heartfelt groan. “Your turn,” he said to Anton, who got up to answer it.

“Hello?” Anton said, followed by a series of half-words along the lines of “Yes- ... but-... just-...” Ezra could faintly hear someone shouting on the other side of the line. Eventually Anton gave up on the conversation and just held the phone out to Ezra. “I think it’s for you,” he said. “It’s your dad.”

Ezra’s heart was racing as he moved to take the phone from Anton. He hadn’t spoken to his father in years; not since him and Anton were unceremoniously kicked off the farm. Anton must have sensed his trepidation, because he took Ezra’s free hand in his own and gave it an encouraging squeeze. Ezra gave him a weak smile in return, and hung on to that hand as if it were a lifeline (which, to be honest, it pretty much was).

Ezra took the phone from Anton and pressed it to his ear. At least the yelling on the other end had stopped.

Deep breath.

“Hello, father,” he said, willing his voice to remain calm.

“Ezra,” came his father’s voice, harsh and clipped. “Would you like to explain what you’ve been up to?”

“I’m sorry?” Ezra said

“ I was watching the news, this disgusting moffie parade in Joburg, and do you know what I saw?” Ezra knew, or suspected he did, but opted not to say anything.

“You!” his father burst out. “My youngest son, and that stupid friend of yours, surrounded by kaffers and moffies and dykes!” Ezra gritted his teeth.

“Is that what you’re doing with the law degree I paid for?” his father went on, his voice raising back to full shouting pitch. “Helping those degenerates crawl out of the holes they belong in? I won’t stand for it! You’re dragging the family name through the mud!” His father was in full-on ranting mode now, and Ezra had to hold the receiver away from his ear so as not to be deafened. The man was shouting so loudly that even Anton could hear every word. He mimed sticking a finger down his throat, and Ezra stifled a giggle.

“You know this will be in the papers tomorrow!” his father went on, hardly pausing for breath. “What if you’re on the photos? How can I show my face in town again, with my own son being associated with such despicable creatures? I won’t stand for it! I insist that you break all ties with this... this organization immediately! Find yourself decent people to work for!”

“Father!” Ezra said firmly, interrupting the old man’s ranting.

“What?” the old man said grumpily. “What do you have to say for yourself? Come on, speak. Explain.”

I might if you shut up for a moment, Ezra thought to himself. Out loud, he said, “I have nothing to explain. I’m not working for GLOW, father; I’m a member.”

“You’re... what?” that seemed to take the wind out of the old man’s sails for a moment.

Ezra rolled his eyes. “I’m gay, father. You honestly hadn’t noticed?”

“You’re joking,” his father said, sounding shocked.

“I’m so not,” Ezra replied. “I’ve been living with a man for the last six years, for God’s sake!”

“But why?” his father said. “We didn’t raise you that way! Fuck, if it’s not your sister embarrassing me, it’s you. How did my children go so wrong?” Ezra could picture his dad running his hands through his hair. He felt a twinge of sympathy – Ezra’s coming out had obviously come as a shock to him.

“I was born this way, father,” Ezra said kindly. “It has nothing to do with the way you raised me. It’s just who I am. I’m still the same Ezra I always was.”

“Well,” his father said, the hard edge creeping back into his voice. “I won’t accept it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ezra said calmly, “Because it’s not something that will ever change.”

“Then as far as I’m concerned, you’re no longer my son.” And with that, the line went dead.

“What the-?” Anton said when Ezra put the phone down on its cradle.

“I think I’ve just been officially disowned,” Ezra said. Despite the gravity of the statement, he felt remarkably calm.

“Fok,” Anton said, running a hand over his chin. “You okay?”

“You know what? I am,” Ezra answered. “I haven’t felt like part of that family for the longest time anyway.” He stepped up to Anton and was immediately enfolded in his strong arms. “They would never accept me as I am. They’d never accept _you_. And I wouldn’t dream of trading you for them.”

### Notes

124 So, little update on where the law was standing in 1988. The prohibition on mixed marriages had been repealed in 1985 and the pass laws had been repealed in 1986. However, the reservation of separate amenities and geographic separation by race was still in force (although ignored in some areas, notably Hillbrow), and gay sex was still very much illegal, although there was a lot more activism for LGBT rights.[return to text]

125 Local LGBT organizations: yep, they were a thing. There were two in Joburg at the time: The Gay Association of SA (GASA), founded in Hillbrow in 1982, was predominantly white and did not take an official stance against apartheid (“we do not get involved with politics” was a popular stance for whites to take, because of course they weren’t the ones suffering because of the politics!) This political exclusionism led to the formation of the Rand Gay Organization in 1986, which was non-racial and openly opposed to Apartheid. GASA pretty much fell apart after that.[return to text]

126 [Simon Nkoli](https://www.sahistory.org.za/people/simon-nkoli) (pronounces Nkodi, for no reason that I can fathom) was a real person, at the front line of the LGBT movement in SA. ([Here](https://www.mambaonline.com/2018/11/29/14-things-you-should-know-about-simon-nkoli/)’s another interesting quick-read article on him). Obviously I took some liberties including him in the story, so please don’t hunt me down for being a shoddy biographer. I just really admire the guy. If you’re interested, there’s a documentary entitled ‘Simon & I’, directed by Bev Ditsie (another well-known LGBT activist and a close friend of Simon), chronicling Simon’s life – you can watch it on You Tube [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cj56iZNVZ-c). Simon died in 1998 of AIDS. Bev is still alive and well, and very much the activist.[return to text]

127 The Delmas Treason Trial involved a group of 22 political activists who were arrested following rent protests in 1984, charged with treason (which potentially carries the death penalty) due to their association with the banned United Democratic Front (UDF). Their trial, known as the Delmas Treason Trial, became one of the longest running trials in South African legal history. A few of them (including Simon) were released in 1988, and the rest were eventually acquitted in 1989 due to some legal technicality.[return to text]

128 Okay, I’m bending the truth just a tiny bit here – Simon used this story with his first lover, Andre (also a white man); he came out publicly while he was in prison. The story was just too good to resist. [Here](https://www.gala.co.za/resources/docs/Letters_of_Simon_Nkoli.pdf) is an incredible article that includes many, many letters Simon wrote to Roy while he was in prison. It’s an amazing read. If nothing else, go read the last letter.[return to text]

129 The organization he is referring to is, of course, GLOW – the Gay and Lesbian Organization of the Witwatersrand. They played a huge role in bringing LGBT rights issues to the forefront during South Africa’s transition to democracy, and organised South Africa’s first Pride in 1990.[return to text]

130 1990 was a big year, politically speaking. FW De Klerk had become president in 1989, and the process of dismantling Apartheid finally began in earnest under his tenure. In 1990, Madiba was freed from prison, the ANC and other political organizations were unbanned, and many of the remaining Apartheid laws were abolished. It was also the start of a few years of intense political unrest and violence, especially between the ANC and IFP (Inkhata Freedom Party). There’s a movie and a book called The Bang-Bang Club which documents this time through the lenses of four photojournalists; I haven’t seen the movie but I did read the book, and it’s rather chilling.[return to text]

131 Okay, obviously Ezra’s role in GLOW is as fictional as he is, but the activities I describe are really things that GLOW did. There was a real member of GLOW, [Edwin Cameron](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edwin_Cameron), who played much the same role in real life as Ezra does in this story. He eventually became a justice in the Constitutional Court (the highest court of law in SA), while being openly gay (just to give you an idea of how far we’ve come here...) He retired in 2019. Interestingly in relation to this story, his partner is also a black man.[return to text]

132 Here’s a Sunday Times article about that first Pride: <https://www.timeslive.co.za/sunday-times/lifestyle/2019-10-20-politics-play-looking-back-on-joburgs-first-pride-march/>[return to text]

133 Another quote from Simon: “I am black and I am gay. I cannot separate the two parts of me into primary or secondary struggles. They will be all one struggle”. This pretty much typified his approach.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may wonder why everything in this chapter is just about gays and lesbians, not LGBTQIA+ as a whole. The short answer is that that was the discourse in SA at the time. It took us a while to get with the program for the rest. It did get better, though – from 2003 [the law](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alteration_of_Sex_Description_and_Sex_Status_Act,_2003) allows a person to change their gender in the population register; however, medical (but not surgical) transitioning is still a requirement to have one’s gender legally changed. As for other groups, like agender and asexual people, they have the same protections as the others in law (since they’re included in the umbrella terms gender and sexual orientation), but the general public is still mostly unaware of their existence.


	25. Is blood thicker than water?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelle unexpectedly pops back into Ezra's life, with interesting consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before we start: 
> 
> SHOUT OUT to UlsPi, because this whole scenario was their idea, and their comments made this chapter 1000X better. Dankie skat 😘
> 
> CW: Michelle. So homophobia, racism, treating people like garbage.

_1991_

Ezra didn’t think much of it when his office phone rang one Friday morning in late March. The blasted thing rarely shut up for more than an hour at a time.

“Dr Fell speaking,” he said as he answered.

“Am I speaking to Mr. – I’m sorry, doctor – Ezra Fell?” asked a woman’s voice.

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

“This is sister Ansie Van Tonder at HF Verwoerd Hospital[134],” the woman continued. “I am phoning with regards to your sister.”

“Michelle?” Ezra asked, his mind reeling somewhere between surprise and panic. “What’s wrong? Is she injured?”

“Oh, dear, no,” the nurse said reassuringly, “I’m phoning from the maternity ward.”

“Wait, she’s _pregnant_?”

“Well, not anymore,” the nurse replied. “She gave birth to a healthy baby boy not two hours ago.”

“Oh-kay,” Ezra said, trying to process this information. The last he’d heard from his sister was when she got married about four months ago. He only got a photo in the mail after the fact, apparently not even meriting an invitation to the wedding. Ezra recalled looking at the man, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, and wondering whether his father considered him a replacement for the youngest son he’d written off.

But wait, if she had only gotten married then, and the baby was born now...

“Mr Fell? Are you still there?” came the nurse’s concerned voice.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I was just a bit... well, shocked, to be honest. My sister and I haven’t been on the best of terms recently.” An understatement of note – they hadn’t spoken a word to each other in probably eight years. “I’m surprised she would ask you to phone me.”

“Oh, she was very insistent that we do not contact any of her other family,” the nurse said.

“And her husband?” Ezra was bewildered. Surely he should be there?

“Ah. Well.” The nurse sounded decidedly uncomfortable now. “I’m afraid the situation is rather... delicate. I really cannot discuss it over the phone. Could you perhaps come over to the hospital, so that we can talk in person? There are some, erm, complications we have to take care of.”

Ezra wasn’t particularly in the mood for a trip to Pretoria, especially given the fraught relationship between him and Michelle, but no amount of pleading could persuade the nurse to tell him any more than she already had, and Michelle was flat out refusing to speak to him on the phone. With a sigh, he resigned himself to driving out there.

Whatever it was that was going on, Ezra knew that he didn’t want to face it alone. Michelle wouldn’t have contacted him for anything less than a disaster. So, after he arranged for one of his postgrad students to man his office for the rest of the day, he set out to Emmarentia to pick up Anton.

Anton took one look at Ezra’s face and excused himself from work, claiming he had a family emergency. His boss swore and threatened to deduct the day’s wages, but Anton simply apologised and walked away. Ezra felt a surge of love for his partner, this man who would drop everything at a moment’s notice when Ezra needed him.

Once they arrived at the hospital and located the maternity ward, they asked for Sister Van Tonder. She turned out to be a plump, matronly woman in her late fifties with lively eyes and the kind of smile you always imagine a fairy-tale grandmother would have. “Dr Fell,” she said, shaking him warmly by the hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course,” Ezra said. “This is my friend Anton,” he said, gesturing to his partner. He hated having to introduce Anton as his friend – as if he weren’t his whole world and everything in it – but they both agreed that it was safer. Sister Van Tonder greeted him just as warmly.

“Where’s Michelle?” Ezra asked once all the introductions had been made. “Can I speak to her?”

“In a minute,” the sister said. “Let’s talk first.” She showed them to an office where there were a few chairs and they all sat down.

“So,” the nurse began. “Like I said. Your sister gave birth this morning.”

“Right,” Ezra interrupted. “But why am I here? Where’s her husband?”

“Ah,” the sister said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “That’s sort of the problem. He took one look at the baby and stormed out. We haven’t been able to get hold of him since.”

“Why? Is there something wrong with him? The baby, I mean.” Ezra asked.

“No, no. Not as such,” she replied. “It’s just... well, he believes he has good reason to doubt the child’s paternity.”

“What, by looking at him?” Ezra asked. “How does that work?”

“Perhaps I’d better just show you,” she said, getting up and beckoning to them to follow.

She led them to the nursery, where there were a few cribs with babies, watched over by a junior nurse. Sister Van Tonder walked over to one of them, cooing at the little blue-wrapped bundle lying inside for a moment, and wheeled it over.

Ezra’s mouth dropped open and he flailed blindly with one hand until he could locate Anton’s hand, grabbing it and squeezing hard enough that it must have hurt like hell.

The baby in the crib, sleeping peacefully without a care in the world, was as brown as Anton, with a shock of black hair peeking out from under its beanie.

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense.

Ezra took a deep breath to try and recover from the shock. “Okay,” he said at last, when he felt he could trust his voice. “I see. This is awkward.” The nurse pulled a _you’re telling me_ sort of face in response.

“I don’t quite see what I’m supposed to do, though. Can I at least speak to my sister?”

“Why don’t you wait here for a moment, and I’ll go find out,” the nurse said, and bustled out.

As if he’d sensed her departure, the baby chose that moment to start crying. Ezra flapped his hands helplessly and gave the young nurse an imploring look – he didn’t know the first thing about babies.

“You can pick him up,” the girl said encouragingly; she had her hands full changing a diaper.

Ezra could feel himself starting to panic – how did you hold a baby? What if he dropped it? Anton, however, moved immediately to pick up the mewling baby, cradling his tiny body gently against his chest. He started humming a vague tune, swaying gently side to side, and the little one calmed within moments. “There you go,” the nurse said encouragingly. “You’re a natural dad.” Anton beamed with pride.

Ezra could only stare.

Sister De Villiers returned, saying Michelle would see him. Ezra insisted that Anton should also come; no way was he facing his siter alone. However, when he tried to lay the baby back in the crib, the little one started crying inconsolably, so in the end they made their way to Michelle’s room with the baby snuggled up in Anton’s arms.

Michelle gave them a dull look as they came in. ”I guess I should have known you’d be here,” she said to Anton, but there was no bite in it. If she was upset that he was holding her son, she didn’t show it. She just looked exhausted.

“Michelle,” Ezra began, not knowing whether he wanted to give her a comforting hug or strangle her. “Would you please tell me what the _hell_ is going on?”

“Can we speak in private?” she said, looking pointedly at the nurse, who nodded and left the room.

“You too,” she said to Anton, but Ezra shook his head. “Oh, no, no. You speak to us together, or not at all.”

“Besides,” Anton interjected. “He’ll tell me everything anyway. You’re just saving us all some time.”

Michelle looked like she wanted to argue, but at last she relented with a sigh. “Fine,” she said, pressing her lips into a hard line.

Ezra gave her a questioning look. “Well?” he said. She shifted nervously, not meeting his eyes.

“I can’t keep that thing,” she said at last, gesturing to the baby.

“Why on earth not?” Ezra asked, while Anton let out an indignant _“Thing?!”_

“Why not?!” she asked, an edge of hysteria in her voice. “Why not?! Just look at it!”

They did. Truth be told, Anton’s eyes had hardly left him the whole time. “I think he’s beautiful,” Ezra said, stroking his thumb gently across a pudgy cheek.

Michelle harrumphed. “I guess you would think so. Seems you’re into that kind of thing.”

Ezra felt his blood start to boil at his sister’s derogatory tone. “Well, if you’re not, _sister dear_ , would you mind explaining to me how you got pregnant with what certainly appears to be a black man’s child?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen!” she said angrily. “I was on the pill and everything!”

“Let me rephrase that,” Ezra said tiredly. “Why were you sleeping with another man? I’m sure you were already dating your husband nine months ago, no? And from the fact that he’s not here, I’m gonna guess he didn’t know you were having someone on the side. I bet he thought you were pregnant with his child. So, black or white aside, how exactly did you happen to get pregnant with another man’s child while in a supposedly monogamous relationship?”

Michelle gave him a condescending look. “Oh Ezra, still so naïve. Do you really think I owe any man my faithfulness?”

“Well, I think you do if you promised it to him,” Ezra said.

“Nah,” Michelle said. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Anton mumbled. Michelle ignored him.

“Besides,” Michelle went on. “He thinks he’s my boss, thinks he can tell me what to do. Never had that problem with a black man. If he wouldn’t play along, I could destroy him. Easy to get into bed, easy to get rid of when I’m done.” She smirked, self-satisfied.

“Like you tried to do with Anton...” Ezra was horrified. “And then you got your claws into Sizwe. Wait, is this his baby?”

Michelle laughed. “Hell no, I got rid of him _years_ ago when he started getting all romantic. I wasn’t looking for any sort of relationship, for fuck’s sake.” She gave a shudder, as if the very thought were repulsive.

“What then? We’re just a... a... a convenient fuck to you?” Anton said, disdain dripping from his tone. “Like a sex toy on legs?”

Michelle shrugged. “Sure. It’s not like he wasn’t enjoying it. I mean, black men are great in the sack, but when it comes to an actual relationship you’d be better off with a dog. He was there to scratch an itch, nothing more, and he forgot his place. So it was bye-bye boytjie[135].”

Ezra was at this point hanging on to his composure by the tips of his fingernails. “Okay, then,” he said through gritted teeth. “Who is the father? Maybe we can find him. He might want the child.”

Michelle sagged. “That’s the thing,” she admitted. “I really don’t know. I may have been... switching it up a bit. Oh, come on,” she said, seeing Ezra and Anton’s expressions. “Haven’t you even wanted to let go and just fuck around a bit?”

“Fucking around is one thing,” Ezra said, “When all the parties involved know what’s going on and consent to it, then sure, go ahead and have fun. But using people like tools to get what you want, and threatening them if they oppose you, that’s just sick.” Michelle rolled her eyes, and Ezra felt his hands clench into fists. It’s too late to kill her now, he told himself. The damage has been done.

“Your appalling lack of human decency aside,” he said, “what about the baby? What will happen to him?”

“Dunno,” Michelle said, disinterested. “Adoption, I guess. No way I’m keeping it.”

Ezra and Anton shared a long look; a look in which a number of important questions were asked and answered. Anton nodded, and Ezra nodded back. At last he spoke. “What if I take him?” he suggested.

“Are you crazy? Why would you want to do that?” Michelle asked, sounding flabbergasted.

Why, indeed? Ezra looked down at the boy, that poor innocent child, who hadn’t done a single thing to deserve the rejection he was facing from his own mother. Ezra had spent enough time listening to Ana’s work stories to know how this child’s future would play out if he were shoved into the system – non-white babies were rarely adopted, and he would likely end up in an orphanage. Ezra couldn’t bear the thought of allowing that to happen to his own flesh and blood, however tenuous their connection might be. He had to give the kid a chance. Besides, he could tell that Anton was already smitten.

He couldn’t explain any of this to Michelle, though, so he just shrugged.

“On one condition, though,” he said. “When he’s mine, he’s mine. You sign him over to me, and you forfeit any claim on him. I don’t even want to hear from you again. All right?”

“Gladly,” Michelle said.

With that settled, Ezra and Anton made their way back out to the nurses’ station. While Ezra discussed the practicalities of getting legal guardianship over the little one with sister Van Tonder, Anton fed him a bottle, cooing over him like a lovesick puppy. Ezra felt an overwhelming warmth spread in his chest at the sight of them, drowning out the mounting sense of panic at the very big step he’d just taken.

“I’m afraid it will take a few days to get the paperwork sorted out[136],” the sister was saying. “We need a social worker from the Department of Welfare to sign off on it if the baby leaves with anyone other than his parents, and I’m afraid they’ll all be gone for the weekend now. But we’ll look after him for the weekend, and you can come get him on Monday.”

“Is it just the social worker you need?” Ezra asked, an idea forming in his mind. “No lawyers or anything else?”

“Yes,” the sister confirmed. “You can do the birth registration at Home Affairs on your own time. Welfare just has to keep track of where these babies go, you know?”

Ezra smiled. “I think I can get us sorted out a bit quicker, then. May I use your phone?”

“Go ahead,” the sister said, gesturing at it.

Ezra picked up the phone and dialled the now-familiar number. “Ana?” he said when his friend picked up. “I need a favour, my dear.”

\--

That night, Ezra and Anton sat looking at each other as the boy slept peacefully in the new crib standing next to their bed.

“What shall we call him?” Anton said.

“Just not a family name, please,” Ezra replied.

“Agreed,” Anton said with a chuckle. The traded ideas back and forth for a while, not finding one that felt quite right, until at last Anton said, “How about Adam?”

“Adam?” Ezra said, feeling the word on his tongue. He looked at the boy again. “You know, I rather think he looks like an Adam.”

### Notes

134 HF Verwoerd Hospital (Now known as Steve Biko Academic Hospital) is a large hospital in Pretoria. For context in the story, it’s about an hour’s drive from Wits. [I like the poetic justice that the hospital that was once named after the father of apartheid now carries the name of a notable anti-apartheid activist and black consciousness movement leader. Seems fair, somehow.][return to text]

135 Boytjie is a diminutive of boy. You know, just to add further insult.[return to text]

136 Disclaimer: I have no idea if this is really how it works. I do know that we had a few babies staying an extra night or two while waiting to be placed at care homes, if there was no-one to take them. Let’s just pretend this is all accurate, okay?[return to text]


	26. A New South Africa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of wonderful things happen in South Africa. A few awful ones, too. There's a new struggle for Ezra and his friends to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end 😭😭. Second last chapter! This one jumps over quite a few years again, hitting a few very high points and one very low point in SA's history.
> 
> There's a ton of footnotes again - sorry not sorry.
> 
> CW: off-screen homophobic remarks. Historic character death. Discussion of HIV/AIDS.

_1993_

Ezra rushed into the house, excited to share the latest legal news with Anton. “Look at this!” he said, plopping the new Government Gazette down on the table in front of Anton. He had highlighted one section in fluorescent yellow:

_“No person shall be unfairly discriminated against, directly or indirectly, and, without derogating from the generality of this provision, on one or more of the following grounds in particular: race, gender, sex, ethnic or social origin, colour, sexual orientation, age, disability, religion, conscience, belief, culture or language.”_

Anton looked up at him with a grin. “You know I don’t speak legalese, angel,” he said fondly. “What’s this all about?”

“That, my dear, is the new constitution[137],” Ezra said triumphantly, “And that bit I highlighted – that bit says we’re _free!_ We’re free to be who we are, and no-one can do anything about it anymore!”

Anton’s face split into a grin as he re-read the piece again, and then he threw back his head and let out an almighty “Wahoo!”, punching the air in triumph.

Adam, now twenty months old, came toddling into the kitchen as quickly as his chubby little legs could carry him. “Da?” he asked, looking a little alarmed at the shouting.

Ezra scooped him up in his arms and twirled him around. ‘Hello, my darling boy!” he said, giving his son a kiss, ending up twice as sticky as when he started.

“Da okay?” Adam asked, squirming around to look at Anton.

“Dad’s fine,” Ezra assured him. “He just got some very good news. He was yelling because he was happy.”

“Okay,” Adam said, breaking into a grin. He wriggled until Ezra set him down, and toddled off in the direction of the garden.

Anton and Ezra had moved out of the Hillbrow flat shortly after they got Adam, realising that the one-bedroom wasn’t nearly large enough for the three of them. It was amazing how much space such a tiny human could take up.

Ezra had managed to find them a small house to buy in Melville[138], which had three bedrooms and a nice little garden to boot – the ideal place to raise a family. Of course, Anton had wasted no time turning their little patch of Joburg into a veritable Eden. What’s more, he had roofed over the stoep and installed a swinging couch-bed-thing that quickly became Ezra’s favourite place in the house. He would park himself there with a book and watch his two favourite guys potter around in the dirt, wondering at how perfect his life had turned out.

Anton’s touch was evident all over their home. He had quit his job at Emmarentia almost as soon as Adam joined the household, opting to be a full-time stay-at-home dad instead. Fortunately, Ezra’s salary was enough to support them all, even if theirs was perforce a modest lifestyle; besides, Anton’s wage had been so pitiful that it wouldn’t even cover the cost of sending Adam to a creche.

And now, finally, the laws of the land were catching on to the fact that they were just as much a family as any of their more traditional neighbours. They had love in abundance, after all; what could be more important than that? Ezra wasn’t naïve enough to think that a change in law would make people’s prejudices disappear, and he certainly didn’t expect it to win him any favour from his estranged ‘family’. But nonetheless, it was comforting to know that they no longer had to hide; that, at long last, the law would be on their side.

_26 April 1994_

It was close to midnight, and Ezra and Anton were sitting in their living room with their closest friends. Adam was fast asleep in his uncle Lu’s lap, and Ana’s baby girl Agnes – a precious little thing barely four months old – was snuggled up in Ezra’s arms. It was a happy family scene worthy of the sappiest Hallmark movie.

The six adults in the house were not talking. They were all focused on the television, where one of the biggest moments in South Africa’s history was being broadcast live. A few minutes ago, to a final singing of _Die Stem_ as the official anthem of the Republic of South Africa, the old tricolour flag had been lowered for the last time. Now, the new South African flag was being hoisted to the strains of _Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrica_ , the new national anthem[139]. Ezra felt that it was appropriate for the birth of a new democracy: _Lord, bless Africa. May her spirit rise up high. Hear thou our prayers, Lord bless us, Your family [140]._

The new flag was unfurled and fluttered proudly in the breeze. A rainbow flag for a rainbow nation, where people of every colour and creed can co-exist in harmony.

Well, that was the theory. Only time would tell whether the reality would live up to the ideal.

\--

The next morning, Ezra groaned when his alarm went off. It was far too early to be up, given the hour at which they’d gone to sleep, but he forced himself out of bed. Today was an important day, after all: election day[141]. For the first time, every adult citizen in South Africa would be allowed to vote on the country’s leadership. For the first time, Anton could stand next to him in the election queue, could make his mark right alongside Ezra. It was thrilling.

They bundled Adam up in warm clothing and a blanket, packed him into his stroller along with some snacks and toys, and set off to the primary school. They had decided to walk, since it was only a few blocks away, and getting parking was likely to be a nightmare anyway.

They found the end of the line – a good couple of blocks from the entrance – and settled in to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Evidently, the organisers had underestimated their task, since it took a couple of hours past the supposed opening time for them to get the ball rolling. Even then, progress was slow, as people went in one by one to draw their cross on the ballot.

Despite all this, the atmosphere in the queue was congenial, even festive. Children were breaking away from their parents, starting up impromptu games on the sidewalk. People chatted with strangers as they waited. An enterprising resident set up a stall selling coffee and cold drinks to people waiting in line. All in all, Ezra thought, the experience could have been a lot more unpleasant. It was a negligible price to pay for freedom.

\---

_1997_

Ezra shifted nervously in his chair in the waiting area outside the principal’s office. Adam’s teacher had called him at work earlier and asked him to come in over a misconduct issue. Ezra fretted as he waited; he knew that Adam had a mile-wide streak of mischief in him, much like his other dad, but he couldn’t imagine him doing anything truly bad. He was just a typical busy little six-year-old boy.

“Dr Fell? You can go in,” The secretary called. He stood up, nervously smoothing down his jacket before he opened the door and stepped into the principal’s office. He suddenly wished Anton were there.

When he came in, Adam jumped up from the chair he had been sitting in and ran over to Ezra. Ezra picked him up, noting his tear-stained cheeks, and gave him a careful hug.

“Please, sit down, Dr Fell,” the principal said, gesturing to an open chair. Ezra sat down nervously, still cradling Adam in his arms.

“I asked you to come in because Ms Davies had a problem with Adam’s behaviour in class today.” She indicated the teacher sitting in the other chair.

“Yes?” Ezra enquired politely. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m afraid Adam physically attacked another boy in class today,” Ms Davies said.

Ezra was shocked. Adam had never shown any inclination to violence.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“It was during arts and crafts. I had gone to fetch more glue from the storeroom, and when I returned, Adam was sitting on the other boy, punching him.”

“I see,” Ezra said tightly. He felt Adam wince on his lap. “And what was the reason for this altercation?”

“I’m not sure,” Ms Davies said. “But that’s rather beside the point, don’t you think? We have a strict anti-violence policy at the school.”

Ezra gently pulled his son away from where he was trying to bury his face in his chest. “Adam,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Is this true? Did you hit that other boy?”

“Yes, Papa,” Adam replied softly. “But he was asking for it.”

“Why do you say that, my dear?” Ezra asked.

“He said bad things about you and Dad,” Adam said, tears welling up in his eyes again. “When we were making cards for Mother’s Day, and I said I don’t have a mother, I have two fathers. And he... he called you bad names, and said you belong in hell with the devil.”

Ezra felt his jaw clench. So that’s how it was, then.

“And I suppose the other boy’s parents were also called in? No?” Ezra looked coldly at the teacher, who was opening and closing her mouth wordlessly.

“Dr Fell,” the principal was saying. “You must understand that we cannot dictate the beliefs of other parents. They are entitled to teach their children according to their own value system.”

“Is that so?” Ezra said. “Even if their value system gives their child a green light to harass my son?”

“It wasn’t their child who threw the first punch,” the teacher pointed out.

“If you think an insult isn’t a punch in its own way, you’re very much mistaken. Now, I would like to know: will my son be receiving an apology from the other boy?”

“Dr Fell, please understand,” the principal said. “We cannot-“

“No,” Ezra interrupted her. “ _You_ understand. My son was acting in self-defence against someone who was insulting his loved ones. Now, I agree that his fists may not be the right way to address the issue, and we will certainly be talking about that. But as for me and my partner, what we are is neither illegal nor immoral, and if you’re going to allow other children to use it as an excuse to bully my son, then we will have to go our separate ways.”

He stood up, grabbing Adam’s school bag with his free arm, and made his way to the door. “Good day to you,” he said before he stepped out. “You may be sure that your governing body will be hearing about this.”

\---

_1998_

It was a sad, sad day for Ezra and his friends – indeed, for all the hundreds of people gathered at St. Mary’s Cathedral, and for thousands more beside. It was the day of Simon Nkoli’s funeral.

Ezra wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Simon had been like a force of nature, and now he was gone, cut down in the prime of his life by the relentless march of AIDS. And Simon wasn’t the first friend they’d buried, or even the tenth; in fact, Ezra was losing count.

He was tired of it; so tired. And there was no relief in sight: while South Africans, straight and gay alike, were dying at the rate of thousands a month, life-saving antiretroviral drugs were still only available to the lucky few who could afford to buy them from private-sector providers.

Ezra had dealt with this in the only way he knew how: by getting involved in the struggle. When the AIDS Law Project was established at Wits in 1993, he was one of the first to sign up. Since then he’d spent countless hours fighting for legal protections for people living with HIV/AIDS. But on days like today, it was hard not to feel like they were fighting a losing battle.

“It’s not getting any better, is it?” he asked Zackie, one of his colleagues from the ALP, after the service was over. “I mean, how many more friends do we have to bury before the government will do something?”

“I don’t know,” Zackie answered glumly. “But I’ll tell you this. I’m putting my body on the line for this fight. We won’t stop until every person who needs it can get access to treatment[142].”

Ezra could only hope that they would all live to see that day.

### Notes

137 The interim constitution was accepted on 25 January 1993, and came into full effect on 27 April 1994 with the first democratic election. It was slightly modified, and the final constitution (that is still in force today) was enacted in 1996. You can check out the 1993 constitution [here](https://www.gov.za/documents/constitution/constitution-republic-south-africa-act-200-1993). The quote is from chapter 3, section 8(2). I am proud to say that SA was the first country in the world to explicitly protect the right to freedom of sexual orientation in its constitution. On this basis, the common-law criminalisation of sodomy was ruled unconstitutional in 1997; this was extended to all so-called “unnatural sexual acts” in 1998.[return to text]

138 I adore Melville. It’s close to the University of Johannesburg, so it has a bit of a student-y vibe to it. There’s also tons of interesting little shops – including a few fantastic second-hand bookshops, which Ezra would appreciate – and funky little eateries where you can get anything from super-fancy pastries to some of the best curries in Joburg. Sadly, the area isn’t quite as nice anymore as it was 20 years ago, but it’s still worth a visit.[return to text]

139 Can I get a wahoo for YouTube? You can watch this ceremony here: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sed-dqbZgkc>. (The actual flag raising starts around 10:55. Don’t read the comments, though. Too many nationalist racist twats there).[return to text]

140 This is the English translation of the Xhosa lyrics of the anthem.[return to text]

141 South Africa’s first truly democratic elections were held on 27 April 1994, and Nelson Mandela was elected president. He held office until 1999. 27 April is now a national holiday, aptly named Freedom Day.[return to text]

142 Yes, yes, I couldn’t write a story about SA without referencing the HIV/AIDS pandemic, considering how spectacularly our government screwed it up under Thabo Mbeki. I *implore* you to read [this article](https://www.badscience.net/2009/04/matthias-rath-steal-this-chapter/#more-1088) by Ben Goldacre to understand just how bad things were in the early 2000’s. I know I link a lot of stuff in the footnotes, but this one is really worth a read. The Department of Health was headed by a quack, and millions died that should have lived.

The Zackie here is, of course, [Zackie Achmat](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zackie_Achmat), founder of the [Treatment Action Campaign](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Treatment_Action_Campaign), an NGO that played a major role in getting South Africans access to antiretroviral drugs. (Again, a bit of poetic licence there, having him meet Ezra. As far as I know, he did attend Simon’s memorial though, so not too much of a stretch). Fortunately, the next minister of health had his act together, and today SA’s ARV programme is first rate.[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all on Thursday for the last chapter 😱


	27. For as long as we both shall live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who deserve them get their happy endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, dear friends... we've reached the end. I'm equal parts sad and proud.
> 
> This is just a shortish epilogue, but there's some bonus art, so yay!

_April 2007_

Ezra, Anton, Harry, and Lu were back at the South Coast with Ana and Newton, twenty-three-and-a-bit years after that motley group of friends had first holidayed there. Of course, they were a bit more numerous now: Adam (now 16 years old), Agnes (13) and her brother John (10) were all there, each with a friend, and the house was packed to the brim, with the boys relegated to sleeping on mattresses in the living room. By tonight, though, the headcount would be down by four.

Ezra hummed happily to himself, looking in the mirror as he adjusted his bow tie.

“Mhlophe!” Harry burst into his room. “Can you help me with this thing?”

Ezra laughed and took the boutonniere from Harry, carefully pinning it to the lapel of his jacket. Harry was dressed in a smart white shirt (collar undone, of course) and charcoal-grey jacket over a rather incongruous pair of dark blue jeans, rolled up to mid-calf. It was as fancy as Ezra had ever seen him.

“There,” he said, giving his friend a pat on the cheek. “You look stunning, my dear.”

“You’re not too shabby yourself,” Harry said, trying and failing to hide his blush.

Ezra, for his part, was dressed in a silvery-grey suit, complete with a dark-blue waistcoat and matching bow tie. Unlike Harry, he was actually wearing shoes; a pair of dark grey loafers that looked fancy, but would still allow him to walk on the beach without too much drama.

“Are you guys ready?” Adam called, poking his head in the door. “Dad and Uncle Lu are about to combust out there.”

“We’re ready,” Ezra said with a laugh, following Adam outside.

They made their way down the familiar path to the beach, to where a small group of their friends and family were gathered under a white canvas canopy. Ana and Newton were there, of course, with their kids in tow. Mama Aida, now nearing eighty, had also been flown down – and had squealed like a little girl when she saw the sea for the first time in her long life. She was down there now, fussing with Lu’s tie and beaming proudly. Gogo Sophie had passed on many years ago, and Ezra felt her absence more acutely today than he ever had.

He swallowed the twinge of sadness that none of his own blood relatives were there; at the knowledge that none of them would have wanted to celebrate with him even if he had invited them. It was what it was, and he didn’t regret a single choice he’d made. He had his chosen family, and his son, and soon he would have a husband. It was more than he had ever dreamed of.

Ezra’s eyes flitted around until he found the one he was looking for, and after that, for all he knew, the entire world could have gone to pot; he only had eyes for Anton. To Ezra, Anton would always be the most beautiful man on the planet. Looking at him now he had to admit that, even objectively, the years had been kind to his love. At 47 years old, he was as lithe and muscled as ever, and the black suit he was wearing accentuated his lean form perfectly. True, his face was more lined than it had been, but those lines were treasures left by countless smiles, a visible memory of all the joy they had shared. Only his hair really betrayed his age, starting to go grey at the temples; Ezra thought it made him look devilishly handsome and distinguished.

When Anton caught sight of Ezra approaching, a smile like a sunrise lit up his face, and he hurried over to him. He placed both hands on Ezra’s shoulders, looking him up and down appreciatively.

“Well now, aren’t you just the most beautiful angel ever to come to earth,” he said, eyes twinkling, before leaning in for a soft, slow kiss.

“Oi, you two!” Lu laughed behind them. “Save it for after the ceremony!”

“Speak for yourself,” Harry retorted, before pulling Lu in for a kiss too.

“Ahem!” Ana made an exaggerated throat-clearing noise. “If the grooms would kindly approach the altar.”

The four men broke into matching grins. Lu held out his arm to Harry. “Shall we?” Harry took it with a smile and they made their way to the front. Anton placed a last kiss on Ezra’s cheek before they followed suit.

The wedding ceremony was unlike anything any of the attendees had ever witnessed. Unusually for a wedding, it wasn’t a day of new beginnings, but rather a celebration of four lifetimes’ worth of love. Buckets of tears were shed as Ana spoke of their devotion, the lives they had shared, the struggles they’d faced and the victories they’d won. They remembered the friends they had lost, the ones who had fought in this war but never got to see the outcome, and rejoiced on their behalf too. Vows were said, words spoken from the depths of their hearts – not simply promises, but commitments backed up by decades of faithfulness. It was enough to warm even the coldest heart.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50115956882/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187976701@N07/50115956562/in/dateposted-public/)

Much, much later, Ezra was lying stark naked and panting on the luxurious king-size bed of the honeymoon suite at the Wild Coast Sun hotel. Him and his new _husband_ – oh, how he thrilled at that title! – had just consummated their marriage in a most satisfactory fashion. It was incredible, he mused, that the sex could still be so good, even more than two decades down the line. You’d think after twenty-four years two people would have seen every aspect of each other and grown bored with it. Well, it was halfway true: they knew each other inside and out, emotionally as well as physically. But instead of boredom, it had fostered a deep sense of security and belonging. Their relationship was a safe place where each of them could be fully themselves, secure in the knowledge that there would always be love and acceptance. Ezra reckoned that that was worth more than a thousand thrilling new romances.

_Changing, our love is going gold_

_Even though we grow old, it grows new_

_You're still the one that I love to touch_

_Still the one, and I can't get enough_

_We're still having fun, and you're still the one_

_You are still the one that makes me shout_

_Still the one that I dream about_

_We're still having fun, and you're still the one_

### Notes

  * The [Civil Union Act](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civil_Union_Act,_2006) came into effect on 30 November 2006, allowing for same-sex marriages. Don’t let the name mislead you – the ‘civil union’ is legally identical to a traditional marriage in every way. You repeat the same vows and everything. It’s even called a marriage, unless you prefer to call it a civil partnership.
  * If anyone was wondering, in 2007 Harry turned 57 years old and Lu 55.
  * The lyrics at the end are from “[Still the one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5aMMRes2u4)” by Orleans – such a perfect song about still being in love even after so many years have passed. Go listen to it! Google the lyrics!



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Over 6 weeks, over 65k words, over 140 footnotes – I can’t believe this is it! I’m going to miss this story, and chatting to you all in the comments – but please do pop in to say hi on Tumblr! (I’m sani-86 there).  
> The good news is, I have another story written and ready to go. Also set in South Africa, but very different to this one (it takes place in 2020, for a start, so none of that Apartheid nonsense). Will probably start publishing it on the weekend, so keep an eye out!
> 
> To those that are keeping count, Ezra and Anton turned 60 this year (2020)! They celebrated 13 years of marriage and 37 years together, and are still embarrassingly in love. They recently became grandfathers, compliments of Adam (29).  
> Also, I’ll leave it to your imaginations to decide how Ezra’s family’s lives turned out. Hint: not great.


	28. An addendum...

I couldn't resist returning to my little South African universe, so this is now part of a series. This is just to let those of you who are subscribed to this story know that there's more SA shenanigans to read about: The story of how Harry and Lu met. Read it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656021).

Also, just for giggles, I visited the Emmarentia rose gardens about a week ago. You know, Anton's gardens? I put some photos up on Tumblr [here](https://sani-86.tumblr.com/post/634831483649081344/visited-the-emmarentia-rose-garden-at-the-joburg).

Subscribe to the series if you don't want to miss future stories; I suspect there may be more at some stage.

xxx - Sani

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop me a comment, or come say hi on Tumblr at sani-86; I love to chat! 
> 
> And for the love of Francis McDormand, if you’re reading this and you’re South African, pleeeeease come say hi – at this stage I’m convinced there’s no-one else from good old Mzansi in the GOmens fandom; I’d love to be proven wrong.


End file.
